


Well Met By Moonlight

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Series: Strange Hearts & Wild Things [3]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Love Bites, Moonlight, Romance, butterfly bog, fangs, first makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne wants a second chance at that first moonlit night, and the kiss she is sure was stolen from them…</p><p>Part 3 of my "Strange Hearts & Wild Things" series. NOW WITH BONUS FANFIC COMMENTARY CHAPTER!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a twist on one of my favorite Midsummer Night’s Dream lines (“Ill-met by moonlight, proud Titania?”). And seeing as Bog “The Moonlight Is…Perfect Right Now” King totally uses said moonlight to be smooth mutherfucker with Marianne, and that Strange Magic itself was partially inspired by A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it just seemed appropriate. 
> 
> And, ‘cause I’m clever like that…*weak laugh*

_The moon glows in the sky, washing everything in cool silver, but all Marianne feels is warmth, warmth and heat and excitement boiling under her skin, her skin that seems near luminescent in the darkness of the Forest, bathed in moonlight as she is. Each breath she takes is heady like wine, overwhelming her, bringing her already sensitive nerves to a heightened pitch, the taste of the evening on her tongue,and she craves it with a fierce yearning that would scare her if she wasn’t so willingly lost…_

_Even in the cool light of the moon she feels like she’s burning, like she would smolder and glow in the darkness, and she can’t understand, they’ve only spent an evening together, she barely knows him, but she doesn’t want to understand, only wants to feel the rush and burning and hunger that’s crashing over her like a wave…_

_His hand, his fingers, so much larger and rougher than her own, place that flower in her hair and trail through her hair and graze her cheek, and she nearly gives a gasp at how it feels against her skin. She touches it with her own fingers, trying to keep the sensation there, but it’s a poor substitute, and she knows in a moment of fierce clarity that only his touch will do, only he will satisfy…_

_His eyes look into hers and she is so terribly frightened that they will be indifferent to her, unable to see the profound effect he is having on her, and it’s crazy, complete madness, they’ve only really just met, only just bared their souls to each other earlier, only just had him show her the dark and glorious beauty of his domain, and she’s only just becoming addicted to the sight of his sharp-edged smile, only just has the burning hope of once more seeing how it lights his face, only just drowning in his achingly blue eyes…_

_She feels her heart give a painful twist as she sees the same hungry helplessness in his gaze, the same surrendering to the evening, to what ever is happening between them. His eyes are gentle and vulnerable and tender and scared yet so desperate, and she doesn’t care, doesn’t care if it’s happening too quickly, doesn’t care if she might be too bold, she wants him, and if there’s a chance he wants her, she will damn everything to just have one taste –_

_She reaches for him, hesitant and near trembling from the sheer force of feelings in her, the moonlight as clear and strong as her need, and –_

* * *

And Marianne woke up.

Still disoriented and her heart racing in her chest, she took several deep gulps of cool air, her skin tingling and feverish. Then everything caught up to her and she nearly screamed from frustration. She pounded a fist into the moss beneath her instead.  _So close, she had been **so close**  -!_

A small grunt made her pause from her silent raging, and she looked over her shoulder guiltily. Stretched out next to her, Bog’s wings and fingers gave some mild twitches, but he otherwise appeared to be too lost to sleep to notice her tantrum. Even with his tall and lanky form sprawling across the mossy bed, he still wasn’t touching her. Remembering how closely they had ended up being entwined during that memorable occasion when they had dozed off on his throne, Marianne felt her frustration grow even more. He was just asleep, he wasn’t  _trying_  to hold himself away from her, but…damn it, they were sharing a bed! She had expected  _some_  contact, maybe being cradled to his chest, or any chance at being held…

It was the fourth night of her week of staying with him, her self-decided sabbatical after eight long weeks of being kept too busy by policy, protocol and her father’s reluctance in letting her see Bog. It was a decision that had made her normally placid father nearly incandescent with anger at what he deemed her  _“reckless irresponsibility”,_  and a poor collection of goblins had paid the price when they had relayed the message to him. But Marianne had had enough of the Fairy King’s attempts to keep her away from Bog. She was the heir to the throne, yes, and had the responsibilities to that birthright drilled into her from a young age, but she was also a grown Fairy, and could decide what she needed.

And after eight weeks, she had felt completely justified and incredibly overdue in needing to stay with Bog. She had passed several glorious days basking in his attention, engaging in battles of wits with him, sharing his chambers, sparring with him, looking over and critiquing his plans for enforcing the borders of his Kingdom and further renovations on his new fortress, and having him actually  _listen_  to her observations, which was more than any of her father’s Council had ever done. All in all, she was spending time with him, which was exactly what she had wanted, and she was happy.

But…

Marianne flopped back down onto the mossy bed, her body sinking down into the softness. She hadn’t been lying when she told Bog she wasn’t expecting anything by sharing his chambers or his bed. She had told herself that just being with him was enough, and she had meant it.  

…But apparently her body had decided differently. She was beginning to flat-out yearn for Bog in a way that made her whole body shake if she thought about it for too long.

She groaned quietly to herself, feeling embarrassment and frustration mix in a powerful brew in the pit of her stomach. It was humiliating, like she was hormonal teenager all over again, like it was her first Spring, with how aching and ready and near dizzy with need she was. And it was so incredibly stupid! It wasn’t like they _hadn’t_  shared embraces, hadn’t kissed, warm and willing and wonderful, the slight scrape of his teeth an intoxicating tease of danger that made her shiver. There had been countless other casual intimacies, as well - she would curl around him on the throne, he would palm the dip of her spine while they both read together…they hadn’t  _denied_ themselves anything, it was just…

She hadn’t counted on being so quickly consumed by her unabashed need for him.

And what was worse, it appeared that Bog wasn’t bothered with keeping things so… _chaste_  between them. Whereas she had been driving herself nuts with her increasingly obvious desire for more…

She felt a pang of guilt in her gut, heavy and dull and unpleasant, as she chanced a look at Bog, who continued to sleep undisturbed as she was going through an emotional storm. It wasn’t fair for her to be so frustrated, she  _had_ told him that just being with him was enough…if she came on too strong, if she pushed too much…

Marianne couldn’t help being a bit afraid that it would be too much for him, that  _she_  would be too much for him. She didn’t want to force him to do anything he wasn’t ready for, but oh  _god_ , he had  _no_  idea what he _did_  to her…

And then there was that dream…

Which was annoyingly getting more and more intense…. Always going back to that night where everything had changed, that moment where they had come  _so close_  until stupid Roland had shown up with his  _stupid army_  and oh  _dammit_ , she was sure, achingly sure that something would have happened that night if they hadn’t been so  _stupidly_  interrupted. God, even just a few more minutes alone would have been enough…

She remembered that night clearly - her slow enchantment with the Dark Forest, her fascination with how wonderfully  _different_  everything was here…and her burgeoning emotions for the dreaded Bog King, beginning as You’re Actually Not That Bad and transforming into…feelings that she hadn’t dared to name for the sheer impossibility of anything actually happening. He was a creature of darkness and spikiness and prickliness… someone who shifted between surly and commanding to shy and nervous in a way she had found impossibly endearing, someone who had suffered because of love, who knew as well as she did the pain of heartache.  _It had only been a night and I felt safe telling him about that…_

That tiny spark of what she hadn’t dared to call attraction, as slowly blossoming as a new bud, had bloomed into something far outside of her realm, beyond anything she had known, even with her naive experience with Roland. It had been an evening of exploring and wonder and warmth, of things unspoken but so tangible in the night air. At least, it had been before Roland had ruined it.

That same dearly remembered night had morphed into something else entirely in her dreams. Any gentle warmth of that evening had transformed into something that made her wake up so aflame with need that it was a wonder that there wasn’t scorch marks on the moss. Her pent up emotions and hunger were obviously getting to her…

She gave a sigh rich with frustration and turned on her side, facing Bog and studying him in the darkness of the chamber, her eyes pensive. She had learned that his old chambers used to have luminescent fungus embedded in the walls, but they had to be coaxed into growth, and for now the room held only darkness and shadows. The two alcove windows in the room were closed during the night, giving the room an underground feel she had grown quite fond of – it made things intimate, secluded. It also meant that she had grown quite adept to being able to discern Bog’s features in near pitch-blackness. Now Marianne looked at the King of the Dark Forest, feeling her gut clench in an utterly embarrassing way as she took him in.

The sight of his sharp profile, the lean, long lines of his jaw and nose and cheeks, filled Marianne’ heart with a sharp pang of something, something she knew wasn’t hunger. Desperation? Yearning? She hesitantly reached out a hand and gently stroked it along the edge of his face, palming the sharp curve of his cheek, his prickly skin gently biting into her palm in an achingly familiar way. He gave a sleep-thickened, unintelligible murmur, and she felt her heart spasm again. Was it…was it loneliness? She frowned at herself, annoyed. She had no reason to be lonely, she was the very opposite of lonely. She had the goblins of the court, she had Griselda (even with her incessant hints at weddings), and she had Bog. She was far from lonely, she was…she was…

She was pining for him even as he slept beside her, craving him even as they kept each other company. It was completely unexplainable and idiotic, but…she knew her recent desires weren’t just the product of wanting to get some brief bodily satisfaction, something quick and crude. She wanted Bog, wanted him in the most intimate of ways, and…yes, okay, she was lonely because it seemed like she was the only one of them feeling like that.

Marianne gave another sigh, this one quietly sad. If only she could think of something to say to him. No, not say – something she could do that would give him a hint, let him know how even if it was too much too soon, she needed him. But was she being needy? Was it too early in their relationship? They didn’t even know what to call each other, no matter what the subjects of both their kingdoms said about them. She gave a huff of annoyance. None of these questions became any easier to answer upon further reflection.

Still feeling out of sorts, she lay down next to him, her back facing his chest. She gently grabbed his arm and draped it around her, as she pulled up a mossy blanket around both of them. Bog gave another indecipherable mutter and drew her closer to him, his grip tightening possessively. Marianne felt her lips quirk in a small smile. At least he wasn’t shy in his sleep, that was something…

She let her eyes drift shut, but not before she sleepily studied one of the alcove windows, barred shut to keep both of them undisturbed. A faint line of silvery-blue light glowed at the edge of it, the only bit of light she could see in the room. Moonlight, it was moonlight, the moon must be getting full again, funny that she hadn’t noticed before…

Without her even really realizing, a small little seed of an idea planted itself in Marianne’s mind as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

Marianne slowly woke up, her cheek pressed against something scaly and warm, feeling her body being gently raised and lowered by something. The room was now slightly lighter than before; some of the sun that fought through the Dark Forest’s canopy made it’s way through the cracks in the alcove windows shutters. She yawned, wishing with all her heart that it was still nighttime. She felt far too comfortable and lazy and warm to be expected to leave the bed, or move from her current position, which was –

She blinked, and quickly looked around, before she gave a grin that was wholly content and utterly smug. She was draped on top of a still slumbering Bog, one of his hands in her hair, the other on her lower back, cradling her to him as he breathed deeply and evenly, her body going up and down with his chest. For her part, she had a leg wrapped around his hip; with one hand twining around his neck while the other lay curled upon his chest. And she had thought they had been snug on the throne…She knew that many people wouldn’t share the sentiment, but Marianne couldn’t imagine a better way to wake up.  _Unless…_

Still fuzzy and near boneless from sleep, she lazily began trailing her fingers along his shoulders, the line of his throat, the sharp angle of his jaw. As she continued to languidly explore, she couldn’t help imagining her father’s reaction if he saw what she was doing now – her unabashedly and lovingly stroking the infamous Bog King, curled around him like an extremely affectionate vine. She grinned, and tried to muffle her giggle.

She hadn’t realized that he had woken up until she felt the fingers curled into her hair twine further into the locks before beginning their own stroking. Marianne let out a small purr of pleasure –  _man_ , but did he know how to use his hands – before lazily looking up and smiling softly at the sight of him. His eyes were still closed, but the ghost of a grin was on his mouth, and he shifted a bit under her attentions, clearly relishing every bit. 

“Tha’ feels good,” he murmured, and she grinned impishly at how sleep made his accent even thicker.

“Yeah?” She murmured back, trailing one hand down from his neck to his chest, luxuriating in the change of textures. He arched slightly into the caress, and Marianne felt that tell tale spark deep within her.  _Uh-oh._

“Mm-hmm.” His eyes opened in a slow squint, and the smile he gave her was slow and crooked and sleepy, and Marianne repressed a girlish sigh at the sight of it, her insides going all mushy. “Feel free to wake me like this any day, love.”

Marianne ignored the little jolt of happiness her heart gave at his casual endearment, and gave a hum that was quite close to a purr. “Any day, huh?”

“If you are so inclined.” His hand stroked down her back, and she nearly arched into his touch, her wings fanning in pleasure. Instead, she let out a small huff of laughter and pushed herself up over him, her knees on either side of his hips. She grinned at the sight of him looking up at her, still struggling to wake up but obviously very satisfied with the current situation.  _Oh, buddy, I can think of so many ways to wake up that are even better than this._  She leaned down to him, palming his cheek and gave him a soft kiss. Leaning back, she felt her smile melt into something tender as she looked into his eyes. “Morning,” she murmured.

“Morning,” he murmured back, his voice a soft rumble, his gaze taking in her sleep rumpled state. He let a sudden snort.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he said, warm amusement in his voice. “Is it always like that when you wake up?”

Marianne’s hands flew up to her hair. “Like  _what_?”

Bog grinned at her distress. “It’s…exciting, is all.”

She gave his arm a small swat, pursing her lips as he began to chuckle. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Mister Morning Breath,” she muttered, one hand still fussing at her hair. Okay, so it was a bit wild, but hey, her bed head was tame compared to Dawn’s.  

He ignored her grousing and tugged her back down to him, letting her settle back on his chest. She regally allowed herself to be manhandled, mostly because Bog wasn’t known for being a morning person, and the combination of his good humor and such close and uninhibited contact with him was making her go into a slow but steady burn. Damn, she had it bad.

She snuggled up under his chin, and made her fingers walk up one spiky-edged arm, grinning as he batted at them, the gesture empty of any violence. “Sooo…anything on the agenda? Maybe an early morning spar?” she questioned, and alright, her voice had a coy tone to it, but hey, she was willing to go there if need be.  _And oh yes, the need is most certainly be…whatever the hell that means._

Bog started to nod before he groaned out a curse, causing Marianne to look up at him worriedly. “I forgot that I have a council with some of the Elders of the Forest. Been putting it off. They’re a notoriously tetchy bunch of old fools, but it’s the only time they agreed to meet.” He gave her a look of honest regret. “And as they do like to ramble on, I’m not sure how long it will take…”

Marianne felt her good mood go a bit sour, but soldiered on, knowing that it wasn’t Bog’s choice. “Hey, you need to do what you need to do. I understand royal duties.”

Bog lifted a brow at her. “Except when  _off gallivanting with dark and dour kings_ –"

Marianne gave an unladylike snort, rolling her eyes. “I said royal duties, not assuaging my Dad’s tender sensibilities.” She gave a huff of laughter at Bog’s slightly smug expression, and then rolled away, taking most of the blanket with her. “Go on, go rule and strike terror into some old geezers hearts.” Kicking off the blankets, she pushed herself off of the bed and shrugged at him. “I’ll find something to do.”

“Undoubtedly something that will cause some small amount of chaos,” Bog muttered, pushing himself up from the bed and giving his neck the usual crack, groaning at the sensation.

Marianne quickly turned away from him, her face flushing. On a normal day she could barely keep it together when he did that, but  _now_ , with every single one of her nerves pushed to astounding new sensitivity, all burning for him…Oh  _man,_  something  _really_  needed to be done.

She cleared her throat before her could notice her state, and gave him a bright grin. “So there’s goblins in the Forest that are even older and grumpier than you? That’s going to be some fun filled hours. ”

Bog nodded distractedly, reaching for his staff. “A more miserable, haughty group of old louts you’ve never seen, but they know Forest law better than anyone else. Some were even around when my father ruled –"

His head suddenly snapped up, and he spun around to face her.  _“What is that supposed to mean, ‘even older then you’?!”_

She hummed innocently. “I just know that you’ve been ruling for long enough that Dad remembers –"

“That doesn’t make me old!”

She grinned at him, batting her eyes. “You’re older than me.”

“Not by much!”

Marianne tried not to laugh, she really did, but the look of sheer  _offense_  on Bog’s face was just too much. She doubled over, letting out peals of laughter.

Bog made a noise of disgust. “Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,  _Princess_.”

Still snorting, her eyes watering, Marianne gave him snarky grin. “Ooooh, _Princess_ ”, she taunted, straightening up and making her way towards him as he stood, glaring at her balefully. “Using my title as an insult, gosh, you’re so clever,  _Bog King_  –"  

“I am _not_  that much older than you,” he muttered, looking away.

“Like I care about that,” she retorted, and lazily wrapped her arms around his neck. He looked back at her then, his expression guarded, and she softened, stroking his shoulder. She might not understand why, but if he was sensitive about being more than a few years older than her, then hey, now she knew that. She lifted an eyebrow knowingly. “I happen to think that one reckless and impulsive young person is enough for this relationship.”

His resolve broke and he let out a low chuckle at that. “I’m inclined to agree with you.” He tugged her closer, and she felt the easy warmth of bantering slide right back into a different kind of heat and oh,  _c’mon,_  this was getting ridiculous.

Trying to ease herself into a less… _stressful_ position in his arms without him noticing, Marianne flashed back to the little seed of an idea from last night. It was beginning to take root in her mind, and she gave a small, thoughtful frown. Maybe if she played her cards right…

She leaned back away from him and cocked her head at him questioningly. “So you’ll be meeting with them all day?”

He gave a tired groan. “A most likely and unfortunate possibility, yes.”

Marianne nodded, letting her eyes slide to one of the windows, still closed, but she knew that a heavy, nearly full moon was in the sky, just waiting for night to come. “Well, have fun. But…whenever you get back here, even if it’s late…let’s escape for a bit.”

He quirked a brow at her. “Escape?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, already feeling her heart start to pick up a bit, and she shrugged with measured ease, trying to keep cool. If he suspected anything…She continued nonchalantly, tossing her head in a carefree manner “You know, let Stuff and Thang worry about something else than waiting on us for a change. No reading, no Throne Room, no staying cooped in tonight, get a chance to stretch our wings…explore…”

She wondered if she was being too obvious as he tilted his head at her, a slightly curious frown on his face. She hadn’t complained about staying in before during her week here, but oh, if the moon was going to be strong tonight… _Please say yes, please please please –_

He nodded, his eyes still curious. “Certainly,” he agreed. “Anywhere in particular you want to see?”

 _Score!_  She grinned innocently at him, trying not to let her eagerness show. “Just some new sights.”  _And hopefully some old ones…_

* * *

 

It was going to be an amazing night, Marianne could already tell.

The moon had already been high in the sky when Bog had returned from the meeting, the sky the deep violet-blue of twilight. She had watched its steady climb in the sky eagerly while waiting for him, too caught up in her plan to pay attention to anything else and feeling zippy little prickles of excitement across her skin. She was ready, she was so ready for this…

After the usual grousing and biting remarks that followed most of his councils, Bog had been as ready as she was to take off into the night, and she smiled joyfully, feeling slightly wild as cool air rushed around her. They raced each other through the ever-darkening Forest, darting around trees and under brambles, careening in and out of deepening shadows. He did show her new places, her favorite being the swampy marsh off by the northern border, where fireflies had skittered across the rippling water like rockets. She had chased after them, making him laugh, and she felt ridiculously free.

She made a few lazy loops in the air, languidly circling around the trees, as he rested on a mossy branch below, before her heart seized in her chest from excitement when she saw what she had been keeping an eye out for the whole night.  _That_  was the one, she sure was sure of it! Grinning, she glanced up at the moon, feeling another jolt of satisfaction and excitement when she saw how brightly it glowed in the sky, casting a pure silvery light upon everything. 

_All necessary things accounted for…now for one last final touch…_

She spun back to Bog, and gave a sharp whistle before calling to him. “HEY BOG!”

“WHAT?” He called back, already grinning.

“RACE YOU!” She flipped into a sharp summersault in mid-air and took off to her destination. She heard Bog give a curse at her early start, but he followed her, quickly catching up. She grinned fiercely. Good…now she just had to find the –

Glancing down, she felt her heart leap. A field of familiar dark purple blossoms lay beneath her, their delicate petals dancing slightly in the breeze and their perfume rich in the air. Giving a triumphant laugh, she dove down and snatched one up, the stem snapping easily. She smiled to herself, deeply satisfied.  _And now Operation: Second Chance can finally start for real…_

She gave one final burst of speed to make sure she would beat Bog – a romantic flight was one thing, losing a race was another – and then let herself flutter down to the tree she had been hoping to revisit all night. Bog soon followed, looking around as he landed, undoubtedly recognizing where they were. Though off in the distance his old fortress was now a crumbled ruin, everything else was as she remembered it. The moonlight was once again shining on them as they caught their breath, standing on the same branch that they had shared that brief moment before…well, she hoped he recognized it, she was going to feel pretty stupid holding the flower if he didn’t. 

She lifted the blossom to her face and inhaled, the scent heady but not overpowering, and gently traced its petals with one finger, enjoying the velvety feel of them. She could feel Bog watching her, and willed him to start the conversation.  He cleared his throat, and she bit back a grin.

“Now, if you will indulge me,” he said, with a mock formality, “I have a question for you.”

She twirled the stem of the bloom between her fingers, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?”

“Yes…” He moved closer to her, and she smiled, feeling her blood thrum from how the evening had turned out, how everything had miraculously fallen into place, how her excitement pooled in her belly. “I’ve been pondering it all night, but for the life of me…I can’t figure out your ulterior motives for getting us out here.”

Marianne gave a wince. So much for subtlety. “I was that obvious?”

Bog gave a snort. “You’re an open book, Tough Girl. The only time I can’t see your emotions on your face is when you’re already screaming about them.”

Marianne made a face at him. “I don’t scream.”

“Yell, shout, bellow, what have you…” Bog waved a hand, and then looked at her closely. “But tonight was… _is_  important for you. Coming back here…” he gestured around them, “is important to you. But I haven’t been able to guess why. Care to explain?”

Marianne’s wings gave a nervous flutter, and she looked away. She had sort of hoped for a wordless acceptance of her foolish, hopeful little plan, but of course Bog was too smart for that. She licked her lips, struggling to find the words. “I…I was sort of hoping…” Not sure how to continue, she threw her hands up in a gesture of frustration. Bog’s attention quickly was captured by what was still held in her hand.

“Is that…is that the flower…?”

Marianne stilled as he came even closer, his eyes intent and wondering, and he reached for the bloom. She silently surrendered it to him, and he gently took it, cradling it in one of his palms with a care that she would have teased him for if it weren’t for her heart performing a series of flip-flops.

Bog looked up from studying the flower at her, his eyes wide. “Why did you -?”

“I guess… “ She hesitated, then took the plunge. “I guess I wanted a second chance at it.”

His brow creased in confusion. “A second chance at what?”

“ _This.”_  She waved around her, to the mossy and secluded tree branch, the brilliant and glowing moon, to the kind of evening only the Dark Forest could provide. She felt suddenly overwhelmed by it all, and tried to keep her voice steady as she continued, which was nigh impossible what with how her heart was starting to pound. “The first night we…I mean, the first night that I was here and we…” Marianne frowned at her hesitancy, but a light of realization, of understanding, began to dawn in Bog’s eyes and she hurried on to continue. “I just thought we deserved a second chance since, y’know, Roland” – Bog bared his teeth briefly at his name, and Marianne wasn’t too happy to say it either – “showed up and ruined the last one.”

Bog moved toward her, closing whatever distance between them was left, taking her chin in his free hand, his other one still holding the bloom. He tilted her face up, so that she could look at him straight on. She gazed at him and shivered, not sure whether to blame the slight breeze, the heady perfume of the flower, or his expression for it. She was intensely aware of how wonderfully rough his skin felt against hers. Without looking away, he gently placed the flower behind one of her ears, his hand running through her hair in gesture that made her knees weak at how achingly familiar it was.  _It’s like the dream all over again, only it’s so real, so real and oh maybe, maybe this time it will happen…_

His eyes, the blue of them shining in the moonlight, were gently bewildered. “A second chance at what?” he repeated, soft and unsure.

Marianne stared up at him, her eyes unblinking, drinking him in as he stood somewhere between shadow and moonlight, her heart in her throat, unable to say anything, unable to tell him what she meant, what all of this was about.

She was only able to show him.

While she didn’t like to think about it now, Marianne had fooled around a bit with Roland – nothing big, nothing but a few stolen moments in dark corners and empty hallways that her younger self had spent many an hour mooning over and now made her stomach heave. But the point was she was no novice to this stuff. She couldn’t be sure with Bog, but since he  _was_  older than her – though he obviously didn’t care to be reminded of that - she was relatively certain that he had more experience than her. Which set her nerves even more on edge when she stepped into his space, already so close to him to begin with, looking up at him through her lashes.  Gently but purposefully, she ran her hands up his arms, their rough, scaly texture sending ripples of heat through her, before clasping them behind his neck. Once again wishing he wasn’t so much taller than her, she rose slightly on her toes as she pulled him down to her, her eyes sliding closed and her lips already parted.

Any remaining confusion he had left melted away from Bog as their mouths met in an achingly slow and sweet kiss, the mix of softness and roughness and warmth intoxicating. He immediately circled his arms around her, tugging her as close as she could get. Pressed up against all his sharp edges, Marianne felt herself shiver, victory and desire both fueling her reaction. This,  _this_  was what was supposed to have happened that night, this was the kiss that had been stolen from them, the one they were meant to have…

Sliding her hands down his back, she gave a little hum of happiness, and Bog responded by raising a hand to her cheek, one sharp thumb reverently stroking along the graceful line of her cheekbone. In that moment, Marianne could have sworn that she could feel the glow of the moon on her skin, on his, making them both turn silver. She tilted her head, angling her mouth to deepen the kiss, and he eagerly followed. It was warmth and longing and everything that could have been that first night, and she sighed into the kiss, causing Bog to tighten his grip, his hands prickling against her, even through her clothes. She let out a soft, pleased little moan at the contact, and his answering growl, low and quiet, sent an intense shiver down her spine. The burning ache at her core intensified, sending a throbbing pulse through every inch of her body.  _Now, do it now, now now now._

Her heart hammering anew, she carefully brought her arms back up to loop around his neck. The kiss continued, soft and gentle and teasing, stoking her fire, and Bog was too lost to it to notice her hands as they slowly ran up his neck, cradling the back of his head, holding him there. And Marianne knew with an exhilarated finality that this was it, that if she ever wanted to make her move, it had to be now.  _C’mon, Tough Girl._

Her stomach in knots, her heart racing, every bit of her on fire from need, she parted her mouth and, hesitancy and hunger clear in the gesture, slowly brushed her tongue against his lower lip.  _Oh god, oh **god** , the  **taste**  of him –_

Bog violently jerked away from her, his eyes huge.

Marianne tried to control her breathing, feeling her face burn painfully even as the rest of her went horribly numb and cold, and she could only stare at him with stricken eyes, shame and disappointment and thwarted lust burning in her gut. She was overcome with a sickening wave of guilt as she saw the look of shock on his face, and oh god,  _oh god_ , it  _was_  too much, it  _was_  too soon, she had messed up, she had ruined  _everything! Oh **god** , oh Bog, I’m sorry, I am  **so** sorry._

A sound that sounded potentially like a sob escaped her, and she blinked rapidly as her eyes began to prickle, desperate not to make more of a fool of herself tonight than she already had. She could hardly bare to look at Bog, who was still deathly silent.  _Say something, you moron._

She took a deep, heaving breath, and opened her mouth, whether to apologize or plead, she had no idea. “I –“

Whatever words she was going to say were lost when Bog grabbed her and slammed her back against the tree trunk, pinning her arms up. Before she could demand what the hell he was doing, his mouth was on hers in a kiss that was near ferocious in its hunger, hot and hard and desperate.

Stars exploded behind Marianne’s eyes, and she was only able to take a quick, shuddering gasp for air before she was kissing him back just as fiercely, open mouthed and savage in her passion.

They moved desperately against each other, fumbling in their desire, too consumed by their frantic need to experience as much as they could of the other to worry about skill. Marianne gave a delirious moan as his tongue brushed against hers, the feel of it and the slight sting of his teeth against her lips sending her senses into a freefall of ecstasy. She quickly went to work on giving as good as she got, chasing after it with her own tongue, stroking and exploring, already addicted to the taste of him. He shuddered hard against her, and the kiss turned deep and smothering and almost unbearably heated, neither of them wanting to stop to breath, to do anything that would tear them apart, anything that would cease this delicious warm, wet heaven –

Marianne strained her body to his, aching to feel every inch of him as he held her against the tree, his hands a crushing vice on her wrists, as if there was any danger of her leaving. She wanted to feel him, to feel all of him, but he was so tall and still had to hunch over her and dammit, she knew fairies were supposed to be dainty, but what was the  _point_  if she had to stand on her toes to get near to him while he was kissing her like this? After a few more heated gasps and groans and not nearly enough contact, she told any remaining sense of propriety to go screw itself and hooked a leg around his waist, a desperate sound escaping from her.

And Life decided to do her a solid as Bog quickly lifted her up to him, one pair of claws digging into her thigh while the other clutched her back, and she was able to shamelessly wrap both legs around him and continue their kiss and oh  _hell_ , the last time she did this she was drunk on goblin ale and had been too wasted to appreciate her situation but now, with every nerve ablaze and every part of her –  _every single intimate part_  – pressed against him, scales and sharp edges and all of it biting into her tender skin…

Desperately needing to ease her ache, Marianne unthinkingly let herself grind against him, punishing and perfect, lost to her frantic and fevered thoughts as Bog gave a choked sound into her mouth.

_\- I love him I love him I love him, I love him so much, he’s amazing perfect incredible, I never want this to stop, never never never, never wanna let him go, want every bit of him to bite into me, devour me, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe -_

Her lungs burning for air, Marianne dizzily let her head loll back, gasping, and Bog let his head sag, also taking deep, shaky breaths. Gulping down cool air, Marianne tilted her head further back in a groan, her senses swimming, a sea of moonlight around her. She shakily tried to marshal her wits, but at that moment Bog, evidently deciding he was sufficiently recovered and undoubtedly compelled by the sight of her bared throat, chose to burrow his head in the crook of her neck and lavish the slender column of it with scraping, sucking kisses.

Marianne inhaled in shocked pleasure, stunned at both at the initiative he had shown so far and at the frankly mind-melting sensations of his teeth and tongue on her achingly sensitive skin –  _does he know fairies’ necks are our sensitive points, did he figure out that’s why I wear high collars?_  – as he tasted and tested, and if the muffled moans he was giving were any indication, he obviously liked what he found. Marianne’s eyes squeezed shut and her fingers dug into his shoulders, her senses already overloading when his fangs pricked against her pulse point, and she gave an utterly embarrassing whimper, which seemed to spur Bog on, and she felt him snarl into her neck and –

She gave a yelp, her neck stinging, and Bog jerked away, horrified.

“ _Marianne!_  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean to, it-it just came over me, did I hurt you - ?!”

“ _Don’t you dare stop_ ,” she ground out, her voice a snarl, pulling his head and his mouth, some of her blood still on his lips, back to her neck. And though he hesitated at first, obviously loathe to causing her any more pain, Bog continued his attentions there, kissing and licking and soothing away any pain from his bite, and Marianne let out a breathy moan when she felt the scrape of his fangs again. He quickly understood and bit once more, not as fierce as the first one, but enough that it sent a spiral of heat through her and ripped a deep-throated growl from him.

 _Oh god, this is even better than that time in the empty Throne Room_. Panting, the bite of tree bark digging into her back and Bog’s bite on her throat, Marianne once again attempted to rally her wits, galvanizing her will to give back at least half of the pleasure he was giving her. As his mouth trailed up her throat, she hissed out a breath and leaned into him, nuzzling against his cheek before nipping at his ear. He shook and then slumped into her embrace, his breath coming out in a helpless, ragged gasp as Marianne teasingly slid her tongue along the edge his ear, before biting into it,  _hard_. The sound he made at that seemed to be torn from somewhere deep within him, and though it was the first time she had ever heard it, Marianne knew it was now going to be one of her life’s goals to have him make it as much as possible.

Feeling heat blossom in her belly all over again, she smirked and drew back, dragging the ear free of her teeth before mouthing at it one last time, her breath coming in little breathy gasps.  _A bite for a bite._  Even though she couldn’t do the same damage as Bog could, it was obvious it had just as a devastatingly serious affect on him as his bite had on her. He gazed up at her, dazed, like she had just dealt him a blow, crippling him in the best way possible. Her heart still pounding, Marianne looked at him with hooded eyes and bared her teeth in a growl. He suddenly snarled and grabbed her, pulling her to him once more, and she laughed into his mouth, triumphant and happy, so incredibly happy.

The laughter turned into a greedy moan as tongues entwined around each other once more, sinking into shared heat, and it was a damn good thing he was holding her because at this point her knees would be as weak as water. Yet she still felt so powerful, so hungry for more, for anything he could give. This was so much more than any embrace that they had shared up until now – this was desperation in every inch of their bodies, desire and craving and need, and the groan Bog gave as she arched against him sounded half-starved, and she was stunned and so outrageously turned on by how unabashed he was being, how forceful – she would have thought being dominated like this would have made her livid, but when Bog did it –

She tore her mouth away from the kiss, her lips swollen and burning, and oh, oh god, she wanted as much of him as she could get -  _his jaw line, I love his jaw line –_ and Marianne’s thoughts were rapidly becoming more and more incoherent as she bit and sucked and kissed her urgent way along said jaw, Bog’s shuddering gasps making her feel molten with need, like she was smoldering from sheer desire, and as they dove back into another hungry kiss she dared to imagine that together they could coalesce from their shared passion, incinerate the whole Forest…

Gone were her nerves, the lonely shadows in her heart, and she wondered through a haze of desire how Bog had suddenly switched from being perfectly content with simple touches and embraces to this kind of heat, this frantic clash of passion.

She was distracted from her pondering as Bog clutched at her hip, rocking into her, and her breath whooshed out of her in a high gasp, and now their kiss was something else entirely, both of them letting their bodies move against each other in a rhythm that was both intoxicatingly new and completely natural. They parted for air, their breath mixing, and Marianne looked into Bog’s eyes, and if her eyes were smoldering from passion than his were glazed from need, none of the normal shyness or hesitancy in their depths, and suddenly –

_Oh. Oh my **GOD**._

She realized.

She realized in a piercing moment of white-hot clarity that he must have been tormented by the same feelings she had felt all that past week, yearning and hungering for her but unable to say it either. And the thought of him desiring her with the same fierceness, the same burning, pushed her over the edge, and she attacked his mouth, nearly mauling it with lust. He didn’t shrink away, wasn’t thrown off by her need, but pushed right back, gripping the back of her neck painfully, claws digging in, biting into the kiss, and oh  _god_ , she wasn’t going to last for much longer now, it was too good, too hot, their combined desires a force of nature now that they had both succumbed to it.

Each of them gave one last desperate gesture – his claws tearing at her hair, her teeth biting into his lip – before they parted, their bodies wracked with both pleasure and exhaustion. Bog gave a small, nearly silent groan and let his head sink against her neck, inhaling deeply, whether it was to catch his breath or breathe her in, she couldn’t tell. Marianne, too winded to make any noise, let her head rest against the tree, her eyes once more finding the moon, the silent witness to their…moment.

_You just made out with Bog and it was the hottest thing you have ever experienced and you’re calling it a **moment?!**_

Marianne gave a tiny wince at that inner voice - which sounded suspiciously a lot like Dawn - but she wasn’t too bothered. In all honesty, she was too busy feeling satisfaction and pleasure burrow deep into her bones, her whole body in such a state of languid bliss she nearly purred. Glancing down at Bog, she felt a fierce rush of affection and love for him, and she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his brow. It seemed to wake him from whatever post-make out catatonia he was slipping into, and he leaned back, drawing a breath.

“Tha’…” He quickly cleared his throat, and continued on a little less thickly. “That was…um…”

“Uh-huh,” Marianne lazily and whole-heartedly agreed, and huh, her voice sounded pretty darn throaty as well.

“I mean,” Bog struggled to continue, “that…we…”

“Yeah…” She nodded, her voice a sated drawl.

After a few more moments of fighting to find words that encompassed what had just occurred between them, Bog seemed to silently admit surrender and laid his head back down against Marianne’s shoulder, exhaling hard. Marianne felt a smile tease her lips, making them ache even more. The responsibility to talk coherently obviously fell on her. She cleared her throat and Bog looked up at her, some nervousness creeping into his face.

“Sooo…” Marianne began, her voice still a tell tale sign to how utterly  _amazing_  she felt just then. “I think it’s safe to say that  _that’s_ been waiting for a while now.”  Bog flushed at that, and Marianne gave slight chuckle – only Bog could bring her to the state she was in and then go back to blushing at the slightest insinuation.

“I…I think you’re not too far off in that regard,” Bog muttered, focusing his eyes on her neck, where his bite was already beginning to purple against her skin.

Knowing that it made her the biggest hypocrite in the world but still needing to know, Marianne ducked her head and bit her lip, before softly asking, “Then…why didn’t you…?”

He gave a wince, and looked away from her, guilt and shame on his face. “I didn’t want…even with you staying here for so long…” he gave a frustrated sigh at himself, before continuing on in a subdued tone, “I didn’t want to force you into anything, especially if you weren’t ready. Didn’t want to…to be too –“

“Much?” Marianne finished, her heart giving a little pained thump when he nodded somewhat miserably.

“I was worried I would scare you off.” The bluntness of his words was at odds with the soft sadness of his voice, and Marianne felt her breath catch before she let out a groan, angered beyond belief.

“ _We. Are. Such. Freaking. Idiots_ ,” she bit out, glowering.

Bog instinctively hunched up, his eyes going nervous and fearful and confused. “We…we are -?”

“We  _seriously_  need to get better at this communicating thing!” Marianne crossed her arms, oblivious to Bog desperately trying to figure out what he had missed. “We could have had whole days of – of –“ she gestured to them wildly, and Bog’s face scrunched in confusion as she continued her rant, “ -  _this_! Almost a week of it! God, maybe we  _are_  perfect for each other, seeing as we both can’t get our heads out of the mud and  _actually talk_  –“ She finally noticed Bog’s bewildered expression and relented, her shoulders slumping. “I felt the same way. This whole time, even after promising you that just hanging out with you was enough…I was going nuts with trying to ignore how much…” She wanted to continue, but found it difficult between once again trying to force the words out and the incredulous happiness on Bog’s face.

“You felt… _this whole time_?”

Marianne gave a little shrug and unfolded her arms, once again winding them over his shoulders. “It was…kind of difficult not to,” she murmured, and his expression made her heart clench.  _Oh god, he honestly did have no idea what he did to her…_

She let the silence after her statement hang for a bit, giving him time to chew on that fact, before she continued.  “There was also the fact that…” she squirmed, but plunged on. “I wasn’t sure how I would measure up to…others.”

Bog cocked a brow at her, nonplussed. “Others?”

She grimaced a bit and blew out a gust of air, wishing she didn’t have to spell it out. “ _Other girls_ ,” she said pointedly, and Bog’s face immediately reddened.

“Ahhh, well, uh…” He licked his lips nervously, avoiding her eyes. “There’s…there’s no need to worry about…about that.” Marianne tilted her head, torn between suspicion and confusion, and now it was Bog’s turn to grimace. “I was quite young when I fell in – when I banned Love Potions. And as the whole experience made me swear off love, I…” he fumbled, and his flush became even more pronounced. “I never really…had the, uh, opportunities to…”

Marianne intervened by interrupting him, arching her eyebrows in surprise. “So…you never did this anything like this with anyone else…?”

“No one,” he answered quickly, before looking down, the tips of his ears still burning.

Marianne stared at him, slowly going over this new information. He had never…and what they did was his first…

She slowly shook her head, grinning slightly. “Huh…got to tell you, I  _seriously_  wouldn’t have guessed that after…” She let the sentence trail off, and Bog looked up at her, the honest astonishment in those beautiful eyes sending a sweet pain piercing through her heart.

“You wouldn’t? So…I-I wasn’t -?”

Now it was Marianne’s turn to look at him incredulously. “Uh, was I the only one present during all of that? We’re lucky you’re holding me; my knees would have given out. My wings probably wouldn’t have saved me either, now that I think of it.”

At her comment, Bog seemed to realize that he was still holding her, and quickly set her down, his cheeks still warm but a faint grin of pride on his mouth. Marianne grinned too, happy that she put it there, and snuggled into his chest, marveling over how the moonlight framed him. 

Bog’s eyes wandered over her, drinking her in, but when his eyes reached the bruise on her throat, he frowned, reaching out and tracing the air over it. “There still remains the fact that as a Goblin and a Fairy, there will be…differences, regarding what…what we need to, uh –"

“Satisfy our crazy hormones?” Marianne offered, and snickered as Bog gave her a slightly dirty look.

“ _Become satisfied_ , yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the other still on her neck, barely probing the wound. Marianne was still sensitive enough that she swore she could feel the heat of his hand as it hovered over the bite, and resisted the temptation to lean into his palm. His eyes grew darker, withdrawn. “You shouldn’t have to suffer through fangs bloodying you up whenever I get careless –"

Marianne held a finger to his mouth, cutting him off. “Even if it’s the romantic norm to take some chunks out of your partner here, or that stupid misconception that fairies need their wings stroked for some thrills, or whatever,  _this_  is why we need to talk. So we can know what we want, what we need.” She frowned at Bog. “I’m not about to fly off in disgust at something that’s natural for you – I want to know everything about you,  _and_ the history and culture of the Dark Forest, and that includes this kind of thing. All I ask is that you give me the same respect.” She softened and ran her thumb along the edge of his mouth, the rough slant of it catching on her skin. “Besides, I like the teeth.”

Bog shook his head, still worried. “There’s a profound distinction between accepting that we’re different species with different backgrounds, and not worrying enough when you could get seriously hurt –" Marianne’s last words finally seemed to reach him, and he blinked at her. “You…you  _do_?”

She gave a soft giggle, nuzzling his nose. “Yeah.”

Bog didn’t seem to know how to handle that news.

Smiling, Marianne looked away from him and delicately stroked a hand over her bite. “No one is going to have any doubts about who I want when I go back looking like this.” It would give all the gossipers at court a good, sharp shock, which Marianne, having endured all sorts of muttering, was thoroughly looking forward to. A new thought suddenly came to her as one of her fingers caught on the edge of a shallow puncture wound, and she hissed. “Though I will admit, it’s not going to be fun explaining this to Dad when I head back…” she muttered, her mood going a bit sour. He would probably make a big fuss over the “ _vicious Bog King hurting her”_ , or something else equally idiotic. 

Bog blinked like he was coming out of a dream and gave a distressed frown. “So you will be heading back?”

Marianne gave a groan. “Believe me, I’m not happy either. But Dad made me promise I would come back after a week here, no excuses, and tonight is the fifth night.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Now do you see why I was so mad about us not saying anything earlier?”

Bog reflected on that, on all the days they could have had exploring each other, losing themselves to passion, and his expression became quietly enraged. “ _We are such bloody fools,”_  he growled, and Marianne gave a tired nod.

“Yup…” She stroked his sharp cheek, a half-hearted attempt to placate him. “My dad is already mad that I’m here to begin with. We would have to think of a really good reason for me to stay longer.”

There was a pause, and then Bog spoke, his rough voice hesitant “…You could get caught in another storm?”

Marianne gave a huge snort. “That excuse will only fly once, smart guy.”  Besides, no making out, no matter how heart-meltingly amazing it was, was worth her being grounded from flying. Marianne was proud that she could recognize that even in her current lust-addled state.

Bog gave a grunt of annoyance, and she resumed stroking his cheek, trying to soothe both of them, and she forced her mind to think about something else, wandering back to their earlier words -  _“…the history and culture of the Dark Forest… different species with different backgrounds…”_

And that was when Marianne got her second, absolutely amazing-brilliant-incredible idea.

Biting back a fierce grin, Marianne let herself relax, and drummed her fingers nonchalantly against Bog’s shoulder, her nails clicking against the tough armor. “Whether we like it or not, I  _do_ have to go back and do the princess gig,” she mused, keeping her voice as cool and detached as she could. Bog gave a growl, already grumpy, and she fought against the laugh building in her. “At least it will give me the chance to finally talk to Dad about my new idea.”

“Yeah, good for the both of you,” Bog groused.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, even before I met you,” she informed him, her tone lofty. “It’s pretty brilliant.”

“I’m sure it is.” His voice was flat, and she couldn’t stop a smile at that.

“Yeah, a diplomatic program between the Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest has to be one of my best ideas yet.”

“Yes, yes, it sounds fascinating, but how are we –“ Bog finally registered what she said. “…Diplomacy? Between the two kingdoms?”

Marianne hummed in agreement, looking over his head, desperately trying not to laugh at his thunderstruck expression. “Yeah, diplomacy. I’ve always wanted to bridge the gap between the two kingdoms, have more freedom between the borders. I think some cultural education for both fairies and goblins needs to be implemented.” She looked back at him and gave him a smirk, and continued on in a decidedly sultry tone. “The sooner…” she let one of her hands toy with his ear, “…the better.”

Bog’s tried to hide his gulp, but Marianne saw it anyways and a hot, sweet flash of victory and hunger went through her.

Eyes still on him, she continued on in a murmur, earnest and heated. “Really, both kingdoms would become stronger – we could work on losing old prejudices, create new trading opportunities, learn from each other…and as the Future Queen of the Fairy Kingdom, it would be my first big project, let everyone know what I want to do when I rule. I would still live at the palace, but…” Her hands rubbed at his shoulders, and she could feel that they were both getting heated again, both getting deeply excited, “…I would need to establish ties to the Dark Forest. Lots of trips here, lots of time with you, learning all that I can…” Marianne stood on her toes again and whispered into his ear, the heat of her voice palpable. “I’m thinking that those learning sessions would have to be as intensive as possible.”

Leaning back, she looked up into Bog’s face and felt her heart simultaneously melt and somersault from glee. He was looking at her as if she was the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen, his eyes full of shock and dark delight. When he finally spoke, it was in an awed whisper. 

“ _You wicked girl_ ,” he said, and then grinned wildly, and Marianne found herself lifted up once more in an embrace, crushed against him, and she grinned at the incredulous elation in his voice. “You wicked, mad, absolutely  _brilliant_  girl!”

She laughed. “You sure know how to compliment a lady. “ Leaning back, she drank in his sheer exhilaration and gave him a dangerous smirk. “It benefits both of our kingdoms, and we get to see each other as much as possible. Dad won’t know what hit him.”

Bog gazed up at her, looking entirely smitten. “You’re going to be an absolutely vicious queen, love.”

“Stop that sweet talk, Bog, you’re making me blush.”

He gave a laugh, and the sound of it made Marianne feel a mix of warm, mushy tenderness and hot, piercing need. Winding her arms around his neck, she went in for a kiss, and Bog happily obliged. Their teeth clicked against each other as they smiled into the kiss, and Marianne knew he felt the same delight and mischief and eagerness coursing through him as she did. She thought about the future, about further fits from her father, about bringing some of the goblins over to her kingdom, setting out to do what she had always wanted, shattering old musty traditions, beginning new adventures…

And Bog would be right next to her the whole time.

The triumphant, joyful laugh she gave was captured by his mouth and soon melted into a moan as their kiss deepened, before Bog gently broke away and spoke into her ear, which gave a pleasurable little twitch at the feel of his mouth against it.

“In the interest of learning…” he murmured, and Marianne hummed at how incredibly attractive he sounded, using that husky growl. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh, really?” she murmured, her eyes sliding closed as she felt his claws drag lightly down her sides.

“Mmm-hmm…are fairies ears as sensitive as they say?”

Marianne’s eyes popped open, and her breath caught in her throat as she felt Bog’s teeth bite lightly into her ear, his tongue soon following afterwards. The sound she gave was wrenched from her before she could stop herself, and seemed to echo embarrassingly in the warm, moonlit evening for all the Forest to hear. Bog gave a dark chuckle, and she quickly focused on payback.

“Yeah…” she admitted in a heated purr. “But you tell me - do all goblins have such super sensitive spines?” She punctuated her question with a sucking kiss to his neck as she dragged her fingers nails roughly down his back, scratching little trails between his wings. And oh yeah, Bog  _liked_  that, he liked that  _a lot_.

* * *

The mushroom beneath the tree looked up, his eyes squinting in the deluge of moonlight. The King’s Mother had told him that he was to give a full report on the happenings between her son and his Fairy Paramour. But…the mushroom sighed, and averted his eyes. The wrath of the King was already something to be feared. Having something like this reach his mother’s prying ears would undoubtedly send him into a fury that the wary little fungus wasn’t keen to witness. 

Besides…on a night like this, with the moon glowing in the sky like a silent sentinel, the mushroom felt the couple deserved their privacy.


	2. FANFIC COMMENTARY!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of reaching 900 followers on my tumblr!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to do a fanfic commentary for a while, and doing it as a means of celebration just seemed appropriate! This was the most requested fanfic, so I am all too happy to oblige. 
> 
> If you have any further questions about what was going through my mind when I did a certain scene or wrote a certain passage that I don’t address here, feel free to ask me about it!
> 
> Also, Dagda = Marianne's Father/The Fairy King.

_**(It’s funny to think about how flat out _different_  the  _Strange Hearts & Wild Things_ timeline would be if this fanfic had never happened. It’s such a turning point in Bog and Marianne’s relationship - their first legit make-out - that it seems odd to think that this fanfic was essentially a happy, beautiful accident. On that note, I would be incredibly remiss if I didn’t give a shout-out to [dainesanddaffodils](http://dainesanddaffodils.tumblr.com/) - it was her beautiful artwork that inspired this story, and started making this timeline of mine into what it is today. All my thanks and love to you, dearie!) ** _

* * *

 

_The moon glows in the sky, washing everything in cool silver but all Marianne feels is warmth, warmth and heat and excitement boiling under her skin, her skin that seems near luminescent in the darkness of the Forest, bathed in moonlight as she is. Each breath she takes is heady like wine, overwhelming her, bringing her already sensitive nerves to a heightened pitch, the taste of the evening on her tongue, and she craves it with a fierce yearning that would scare her if she wasn’t so willingly lost…_

**(I knew right away that I wanted this fanfic to have a dreamy start to it, to give it an immediate contrast to what would follow. I think it’s pretty safe to say now that present tense is a signal of “dreaming” for my writing, except in some rare cases.**

**I’m still so proud of this opening. I loved the feel of it, the contrast of the silvery cool moonlight and the undeniable heat of the moment, the slow building burn that needs to be answered…)**

_Even in the cool light of the moon she feels like she’s burning, like she would smolder and glow in the darkness, and she can’t understand, they’ve only spent an evening together, she barely knows him, but she doesn’t want to understand, only wants to feel the rush and burning and hunger that’s crashing over her like a wave_ **(Because she’s got a Strrrrrraaaange Magic)** _…_

_His hand, his fingers, so much larger and rougher than her own, place that flower in her hair and trail through her hair and graze her cheek, and she nearly gives a gasp at how it feels against her skin. She touches it with her own fingers, trying to keep the sensation there, but it’s a poor substitute, and she knows in a moment of fierce clarity that only his touch will do, only he will satisfy…_

_His eyes look into hers and she is so terribly frightened that they will be indifferent to her, unable to see the profound effect he is having on her, and it’s crazy, complete madness, they’ve only really just met, only just bared their souls to each other earlier, only just had him show her the dark and glorious beauty of his domain, and she’s only just becoming addicted to the sight of his sharp-edged smile, only just has the burning hope of once more seeing how it lights his face, only just drowning in his achingly blue eyes…_

**(I do love this bit right here - I think both Bog and Marianne know how wonderfully _strange_  their first meeting was, especially when for so long they were each so closed off to Love. But now this evening is happening, and on top of him kidnapping her sister, her sister getting Love Dusted, them fighting to a stand still, now they’re baring their hearts and falling for each other. It really  _is_  madness, really  _does_  make no sense. **

**But then again, Love never does. And their first evening together is a beautiful testament to that.)**

_She feels her heart give a painful twist as she sees the same hungry helplessness in his gaze, the same surrendering to the evening, to what ever is happening between them. His eyes are gentle and vulnerable and tender and scared yet so desperate, and she doesn’t care, doesn’t care if it’s happening too quickly, doesn’t care if she might be too bold, she wants him, and if there’s a chance he wants her, she will damn everything to just have one taste –_

**(She wants him so badly, and sees that they’re both nervous, that they’re both on the same page with wanting to surrender to the emotion of the evening - Bog and Marianne are so perfectly in synch, so equally matched.)**

_She reaches for him, hesitant and near trembling from the sheer force of feelings in her, the moonlight as clear and strong as her need, and –_

* * *

And Marianne woke up.

**(DAMN COCK BLOCKING AWAKENING!)**

Still disoriented and with her heart still racing in her chest, she took several deep gulps of cool air, her skin tingling and feverish. Then everything caught up to her and she nearly screamed from frustration. She pounded a fist into the moss beneath her instead.  _So close, she had been **so close**  -!_

**(I was giggling when I wrote that, because oh man, I knew some of the readers would be in such deep sympathy with Marianne right here. SORRY GUYS!)**

A small grunt made her pause from her silent raging, and she looked over her shoulder guiltily. Stretched out next to her, Bog’s wings and fingers gave some mild twitches, but he otherwise appeared to be too lost to sleep to notice her tantrum. Even with his tall and lanky form sprawling across the mossy bed, he still wasn’t touching her.  **(I love writing Bog sleeping. We so rarely get to see him with all his defenses down. I think that comes out with Marianne here. She loves that he trusts her enough to sleep next to her, the perpetually wary King. As for Bog not touching her here - he’s still getting used to this, used to her. He doesn’t want to cross any lines.)**  Remembering how closely they had ended up being entwined during that memorable occasion when they had dozed off on his throne, Marianne felt her frustration grow even more. He was just asleep, he wasn’t  _trying_  to hold himself away from her, but…damn it, they were sharing a bed! She had expected  _some_  contact, maybe being cradled to his chest, or any chance at being held…

**(But the thing is, as admirable and wonderful it is for Bog not to want to cross any lines, what would be even better is if he and Marianne flat out _communicated_ what said lines should be…**

**These beautiful idiots, I swear to God…)**

It was the fourth night of her week of staying with him, her self-decided sabbatical after eight long weeks of being kept too busy by policy, protocol and her father’s reluctance in letting her see Bog.  **(I think it was at this point that if it wasn’t obvious that the timeline was going to be going back and referencing itself, now it was. So hopefully those who came into this fanfic not reading the previous ones in the timeline were able to keep up!)**  It was a decision that had made her normally placid father nearly incandescent with anger at what he deemed her  _“reckless irresponsibility”,_  and a poor collection of goblins had paid the price when they had relayed the message to him. But Marianne had had enough of the Fairy King’s attempts to keep her away from Bog. She was the heir to the throne, yes, and had the responsibilities to that birthright drilled into her from a young age, but she was also a grown Fairy, and could decide what she needed.

And after eight weeks, she had felt completely justified and incredibly overdue in needing to stay with Bog. She had passed several glorious days basking in his attention, engaging in battles of wits with him, sharing his chambers, sparring with him, looking over and critiquing his plans for enforcing the borders of his kingdom and further renovations on his new fortress, and having him actually  _listen_  to her observations, which was more than any of her father’s council had ever done. All in all, she was spending time with him, which was exactly what she had wanted, and she was happy.

But…

Marianne flopped back down onto the mossy bed, her body sinking down into the softness. She hadn’t been lying when she told Bog she wasn’t expecting anything by sharing his chambers or his bed. She had told herself that just being with him was enough, and she had meant it.  **(And she really does.)**  

…But apparently her body had decided differently. She was beginning to flat-out yearn for Bog in a way that made her whole body shake if she thought about it for too long.  **(Oh honey, _we are so there with you_.) **

She groaned quietly to herself, feeling embarrassment and frustration mix in a powerful brew in the pit of her stomach. It was humiliating, like she was hormonal teenager all over again, like it was her first Spring, with how aching and ready and near dizzy with need she was. And it was so incredibly stupid! It wasn’t like they _hadn’t_  shared embraces, hadn’t kissed, warm and willing and wonderful, the slight scrape of his teeth an intoxicating tease of danger that made her shiver. There had been countless other casual intimacies, as well - she would curl around him on the throne, he would palm the dip of her spine while they both read together…they hadn’t  _denied_ themselves anything, it was just… **(I felt like this was important to establish - Bog and Marianne _are_  comfortable with each other at this point, physically and emotionally. They can do casual!intimacy. But, at the same time, they’re still testing the waters, still unsure…**

**So they’re comfortable, but still exploring. If that makes any sense. But the fact that they’re sharing a bed speaks to that comfort level. You don’t have to get frisky on a bed to make sharing it with someone a big deal.)**

She hadn’t counted on being so quickly consumed by her unabashed need for him.

And what was worse, it appeared that Bog wasn’t bothered with keeping things so…chaste between them. Whereas she had been driving herself nuts with her increasingly obvious desire for more…

She felt a pang of guilt in her gut, heavy and dull and unpleasant, as she chanced a look at Bog, who continued to sleep undisturbed as she was going through an emotional storm. It wasn’t fair for her to be so frustrated, she  _had_ told him that just being with him was enough…if she came on too strong, if she pushed too much…

**(OMG, MARIANNE, COMMUNICATION! IT’S THIS WONDERFUL THING THAT IF USED PROPERLY, LETS YOU HAVE ALL SORTS OF FUN WITH THAT SCALY-BACKED HANDSOME NERD.**

**…I get frustrated when I write sometimes. Particularly when the characters are being idiots.)**

Marianne couldn’t help being a bit afraid that it would be too much for him, that  _she_  would be too much for him. She didn’t want to force him to do anything he wasn’t ready for, but oh  _god_ , he had  _no_  idea what he _did_  to her…

**(But in truth, I do feel for Marianne here. I imagine that with Roland, there were moments when she got open and enthusiastic only to have him give a pained chuckle and tell her to tone it down. She’s still worried about being herself too much, and that’s honestly really sad. Add to that the fact the usual fears of being too much to handle, of being ready for the next step and unsure if your significant other is as well… it’s a tough situation!**

**But the _“She didn’t want to force him to do anything he wasn’t ready for…”_  line is important to me. We so normally see the worry of being too much or of forcing the other person in the relationship coming from a male perspective. I wanted to see it come from Marianne, to have the female worry about forcing the male into doing something he wasn’t ready for. Bog and Marianne have an equal relationship, and their worries reflect that.) **

And then there was that dream…

Which was annoyingly getting more and more intense…. Always going back to that night where everything had changed, that moment where they had come  _so close_  until stupid Roland had shown up with his  _stupid army_  and oh  _dammit_ , she was sure, achingly sure that something would have happened that night if they hadn’t been so  _stupidly_  interrupted. God, even just a few more minutes alone would have been enough…

**(I do wonder if they might have kissed that night if Roland hadn’t shown up. Ultimately…I think the closest would have been an almost kiss before one of them panicked and ducked their head shyly down. Which could have been taken as a rejection, _oh no_ ….) **

She remembered that night clearly - her slow enchantment with the Dark Forest, her fascination with how wonderfully  _different_  everything was here…and her burgeoning emotions for the dreaded Bog King, beginning as You’re Actually Not That Bad and transforming into…feelings that she hadn’t dared to name for the sheer impossibility of anything actually happening. He was a creature of darkness and spikiness and prickliness… someone who shifted between surly and commanding to shy and nervous in a way she had found impossibly endearing, someone who had suffered because of love, who knew as well as she did the pain of heartache.  _It had only been a night and I felt safe telling him about that…_ **(Again, we get the amazement that they fell for one another so quickly. And it’s not a _“Oh God, we fell in love so quickly, WTF?!”_ It’s a kind of… _“I_** _ **immediately felt this trust with you, after being alone for so long, and not trusting anyone, and that’s amazing…”)**  _

That tiny spark of what she hadn’t dared to call attraction, as slowly blossoming as a new bud, had bloomed into something far outside of her realm, beyond anything she had known, even with her naive experience with Roland.  **(I head canon that Roland and Marianne had a properly long courtship, with Roland making sure to woo her as he was expected to and paying the utmost respect and deference to the Fairy King, so no one could question his suitability for being engaged to Marianne and being the next King. In short, Roland and Marianne did everything by the book romance wise -and it fell apart because it wasn’t _real_. Whereas Bog and Marianne did everything you’re not supposed to - fight at their first meeting, fall in love after a short period of time - and it worked because it  _was_  real. Roland acted the part of the Lover, Bog actually  _is_.)**  It had been an evening of exploring and wonder and warmth, of things unspoken but so tangible in the night air. At least, it had been before Roland had ruined it.

That same dearly remembered night had morphed into something else entirely in her dreams. Any gentle warmth of that evening had transformed into something that made her wake up so aflame with need that it was a wonder that there wasn’t scorch marks on the moss.  **(I _love_  that image).**Her pent up emotions and hunger were obviously getting to her…

She gave a sigh rich with frustration and turned on her side, facing Bog and studying him in the darkness of the chamber, her eyes pensive. She had learned that his old chambers used to have luminescent fungus embedded in the walls, but they had to be coaxed into growth, and for now the room held only darkness and shadows. The two alcove windows in the room were closed during the night, giving the room an underground feel she had grown quite fond of – it made things intimate, secluded.  **(I was still getting used to describing just how I pictured Bog’s room in my head, and I’m still not sure how well I succeeded. Originally I was gonna throw in a skylight, but I just the alcove windows so much, they’re so cozy…)**  It also meant that she had grown quite adept to being able to discern Bog’s features in near pitch-blackness. Now Marianne looked at the King of the Dark Forest, feeling her gut clench in an utterly embarrassing way as she took him in.

The sight of his sharp profile, the lean, long lines of his jaw and nose and cheeks, filled Marianne’ heart with a sharp pang of something, something she knew wasn’t hunger. Desperation? Yearning? She hesitantly reached out a hand and gently stroked it along the edge of his face, palming the sharp curve of his cheek, his prickly skin gently biting into her palm in an achingly familiar way. He gave a sleep-thickened, unintelligible murmur, and she felt her heart spasm again.  **(Bog mumbling in his sleep still makes my heart throb. Sleepy scottish mumbles will undo me…)**  Was it…was it loneliness? She frowned at herself, annoyed. She had no reason to be lonely, she was the very opposite of lonely. She had the goblins of the court, she had Griselda (even with her incessant hints at weddings), and she had Bog. She was far from lonely, she was…she was…

**(It’s okay, Marianne, you can admit it.)**

She was pining for him even as he slept beside her, craving him even as they kept each other company. It was completely unexplainable and idiotic, but…she knew her recent desires weren’t just the product of wanting to get some brief bodily satisfaction, something quick and crude. She wanted Bog, wanted him in the most intimate of ways, and…yes, okay, she was lonely because it seemed like she was the only one of them feeling like that.  **(This would be so much easier if you two would just COMMUNICATE.)**

Marianne gave another sigh, this one quietly sad. If only she could think of something to say to him. No, not say – something she could do that would give him a hint, let him know how even if it was too much too soon,  **(it’s not, sweetie)**  she needed him. But was she being needy? Was it too early in their relationship?  **( _NO._  OMG, GET TO THE SWEET LOVING! But again…Marianne doesn’t want to mess this up. She doesn’t want to make the same mistakes she made with Roland.)** They didn’t even know what to call each other, no matter what the subjects of both their kingdoms said about them.  **(I was still on this kick of them trying to figure out what to call the other, before I realized that they were simply Marianne and Bog to one another. They wouldn’t care about labels. Maybe later I’ll come back to that theme.)**  She gave a huff of annoyance. None of these questions became any easier to answer upon further reflection.

Still feeling out of sorts, she lay down next to him, her back facing his chest. She gently grabbed his arm and draped it around her, as she pulled up a mossy blanket around both of them. Bog gave another indecipherable mutter and drew her closer to him, his grip tightening possessively. Marianne felt her lips quirk in a small smile. At least he wasn’t shy in his sleep, that was something…  **(HE WOULDN’T BE SHY IF YOU JUST SAID SOMETHING, HONEY.)**

She let her eyes drift shut, but not before she sleepily studied one of the alcove windows, barred shut to keep both of them undisturbed. A faint line of silvery-blue light glowed at the edge of it, the only bit of light she could see in the room. Moonlight, it was moonlight, the moon must be getting full again, funny that she hadn’t noticed before…  **(I am the most unsubtle writer ever. OMG, like, seriously…)**

Without her even really realizing, a small little seed of an idea planted itself in Marianne’s mind as she drifted off to sleep.  **(Dun dun dun…)**

* * *

Marianne slowly woke up, her cheek pressed against something scaly and warm, feeling her body being gently raised and lowered by something. The room was now slightly lighter than before; some of the sun that fought through the Dark Forest’s canopy made it’s way through the cracks in the alcove windows shutters. She yawned, wishing with all her heart that it was still nighttime. She felt far too comfortable and lazy and warm to be expected to leave the bed, or move from her current position, which was –

She blinked, and quickly looked around, before she gave a grin that was wholly content and utterly smug. She was draped on top of a still slumbering Bog, one of his hands in her hair, the other on her lower back, cradling her to him as he breathed deeply and evenly, her body going up and down with his chest. For her part, she had a leg wrapped around his hip; with one hand twining around his neck while the other lay curled upon his chest.  **(I have the biggest weakness for the image of these two cuddled and entwined together in bed, just softly slumbering, regardless if it’s after some passionate lovemaking or not. Again, it shows that they’re comfortable with each other.)**  And she had thought they had been snug on the throne…She knew that many people wouldn’t share the sentiment, but Marianne couldn’t imagine a better way to wake up.  _Unless…_

Still fuzzy and near boneless from sleep, she lazily began trailing her fingers along his shoulders, the line of his throat, the sharp angle of his jaw. As she continued to languidly explore, she couldn’t help imagining her father’s reaction if he saw what she was doing now – her unabashedly and lovingly stroking the infamous Bog King, curled around him like an extremely affectionate vine. She grinned, and tried to muffle her giggle. **(Originally I was going to have Marianne trail kisses along his body as well as stroking and petting him, but then I decided to save that for a slightly saucier fanfic.)**  

She hadn’t realized that he had woken up until she felt the fingers curled into her hair twine further into the locks before beginning their own stroking. Marianne let out a small purr of pleasure –  _man_ , but did he know how to use his hands  **( _Mmmph,_  Bog’s hands are things of beauty and they would  probably feel absolutely decadent)**  – before lazily looking up and smiling softly at the sight of him. His eyes were still closed, but the ghost of a grin was on his mouth, and he shifted a bit under her attentions, clearly relishing every bit. “Tha’ feels good,” he murmured, and she grinned impishly at how sleep made his accent even thicker.  **(I was still playing with Bog’s accent and how to write it. I felt like being sleepy would definitely thicken it - this was before my head canon that it would get crazy-thick whenever he was truly angry or truly turned on.)**

“Yeah?” She murmured back, trailing one hand down from his neck to his chest, luxuriating in the change of textures. He arched slightly into the caress, and Marianne felt that tell tale spark deep within her.  _Uh-oh._ **(Bog arching under caresses does things to me. Scaly-backed insect cat.)**

“Mm-hmm.” His eyes opened in a slow squint, and the smile he gave her was slow and crooked and sleepy, and Marianne repressed a girlish sigh at the sight of it, her insides going all mushy  **(I am Marianne, Marianne is me, Marianne is all of us. I just *so* adore the image of Bog giving her a sleepy grin.)**. “Feel free to wake me like this any day, love.”

Marianne ignored the little jolt of happiness her heart gave at his casual endearment,  **(I always knew Bog would be the first to use classic endearments casually)**  and gave a hum that was quite close to a purr. “Any day, huh?”

“If you are so inclined.” His hand stroked down her back, and she nearly arched into his touch, her wings fanning in pleasure. Instead, she let out a small huff of laughter and pushed herself up over him, her knees on either side of his hips. She grinned at the sight of him looking up at her, still struggling to wake up but obviously very satisfied with the current situation.  _Oh, buddy, I can think of so many ways to wake up that are even better than this._ **(AS CAN I, MARIANNE. I PLAN ON WRITING THEM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.)**  She leaned down to him, palming his cheek and gave him a soft kiss. Leaning back, she felt her smile melt into something tender as she looked into his eyes. “Morning,” she murmured.  **(I really do love the soft intimacy here.)**

“Morning,” he murmured back, his voice a soft rumble, his gaze taking in her sleep rumpled state. He let a sudden snort.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he said, warm amusement in his voice. “Is it always like that when you wake up?”

Marianne’s hands flew up to her hair. “Like  _what_?”

Bog grinned at her distress. “It’s… _exciting_ , is all.”  **( _MEGAMIND_  SHOUT-OUT FOR THE WIN!) **

She gave his arm a small swat, pursing her lips as he began to chuckle. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Mister Morning Breath,” she muttered, one hand still fussing at her hair. Okay, so it was a bit wild, but hey, her bed head was tame compared to Dawn’s.  **(I would love one day to draw Dawn and Marianne’s bed-heads. Marianne’s is bad, but you can’t even see Dawn’s eyes. Also, Marianne was being a sourpuss, Bog doesn’t have morning breath.)**  

He ignored her grousing and tugged her back down to him, letting her settle back on his chest. She regally allowed herself to be manhandled,  **(whereas with anyone else - Roland - who tries to manhandle her, she’d have their hands cut from their wrists)**  mostly because Bog wasn’t known for being a morning person, and the combination of his good humor and such close and uninhibited contact with him was making her go into a slow but steady burn. Damn, she had it bad.

She snuggled up under his chin, and made her fingers walk up one spiky-edged arm, grinning as he batted at them, the gesture empty of any violence.  **(I like the casual playfulness between them, and the slight call back to how she walked her fingers up his spine. I think it’s safe to say Bog does too.)**  “Sooo…anything on the agenda? Maybe an early morning spar?” she questioned, and alright, her voice had a coy tone to it, but hey, she was willing to go there if need be.  _And oh yes, the need is most certainly be…whatever the hell that means._ **(God, this sentence still seems so fucking awkward to me…I knew what I wanted, but it certainly doesn’t come across.)**

Bog started to nod before he groaned out a curse, causing Marianne to look up at him worriedly. “I forgot that I have a council with some of the elders of the Forest.  **( _Elders of the Forest_  not capitalized here, that changed.)** Been putting it off. They’re a notoriously tetchy bunch of old fools, but it’s the only time they agreed to meet.” He gave her a look of honest regret. “And as they do like to ramble on, I’m not sure how long it will take…”

Marianne felt her good mood go a bit sour, but soldiered on, knowing that it wasn’t Bog’s choice. “Hey, you need to do what you need to do. I understand royal duties.”

Bog lifted a brow at her. “Except when  _off gallivanting with dark and dour kings_ –“

Marianne gave an unladylike snort, rolling her eyes. “I said royal duties, not assuaging my Dad’s tender sensibilities.” **(Dagda is a frequent source to be quoting mockingly in my fanfics, I’ve just realized that. Oh, Dagda, I swear I don’t hate you, I really don’t. You’re just too easy to use as the Rich Old White Man in my stories.)**  She gave a huff of laughter at Bog’s slightly smug expression, and then rolled away, taking most of the blanket with her. “Go on, go rule and strike terror into some old geezers hearts.” Kicking off the blankets, she pushed herself off of the bed and shrugged at him. “I’ll find something to do.”

“Undoubtedly something that will cause some small amount of chaos,” Bog muttered, pushing himself up from the bed and giving his neck the usual crack, groaning at the sensation. **(Yeah, but Chaos ain’t all that bad now, is it, Boggy Boy?)**

Marianne quickly turned away from him, her face flushing. On a normal day she could barely keep it together when he did that, but  _now_ , with every single one of her nerves pushed to astounding new sensitivity, all burning for him…Oh  _man,_  something  _really_  needed to be done.  **(I don’t think I developed this in my other/later fanfics, but yeah, Marianne still has a bit of a thing for when Bog cracks his neck, especially when it results in him giving a pleasurable groan at the sensation…)**

She cleared her throat before her could notice her state, and gave him a bright grin. “So there’s goblins in the Forest that are even older and grumpier than you? That’s going to be some fun filled hours. ”

Bog nodded distractedly, reaching for his staff. “A more miserable, haughty group of old louts you’ve never seen, but they know Forest law better than anyone else. Some were even around when my father ruled –“ His head suddenly snapped up, and he spun around to face her.  _“What is that supposed to mean, ‘even older then you’?!”_ **( “HOW DARE YE, MARIANNE, I AM DAMN SPRIGHTLY FOR MY AGE.”)**

She hummed innocently. “I just know that you’ve been ruling for long enough that Dad remembers –“

“That doesn’t make me old!”  **(Still a grump, though.)**

She grinned at him, batting her eyes. “You’re older than me.”

“Not by much!”  **(I personally head canon Bog to be around 10 years older than Marianne. So, she’s 21-23, he’s 31-33. I didn’t clarify that until a later fanfic that’s not part of the _Strange Hearts & Wild Things_ timeline, but I still wanted to bring up the fact that Bog is indeed older than Marianne. Some of my readers were thrown by such a gap, but I don’t know, it just makes sense to me.) **

Marianne tried not to laugh, she really did, but the look of sheer  _offense_  on Bog’s face was just too much. She doubled over, letting out peals of laughter.

Bog made a noise of disgust. “Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,  _Princess_.” **(His go-to insult for when he’s truly disgruntled with her.)**

Still snorting, her eyes watering, Marianne gave him snarky grin. “Ooooh, ‘ _Princess’_ ”, she taunted, straightening up and making her way towards him as he stood, glaring at her balefully. “Using my title as an insult, gosh, you’re so clever,  _Bog King_  –“  **(But Marianne knows what a freaking dork he is, so it’s all good.)**

“I am _not_  that much older than you,” he muttered, looking away.

“Like I care about that,” she retorted, and lazily wrapped her arms around his neck. He looked back at her then, his expression guarded, and she softened, stroking his shoulder. She might not understand why, but if he was sensitive about being more than a few years older than her, than hey, now she knew that.  **(I think Bog would be sensitive because it’s yet _another_  thing they’ve got going against them. He knows that Roland was her own age, the Dashing Young Knight to her Young Beautiful Princess, so there’s that. And he knows that people will mutter about how he’s older than her, and will say that he’s taking advantage of her youth,  _a lecher as well as a beast…_ )** She lifted an eyebrow knowingly. “I happen to think that one reckless and impulsive young person is enough for this relationship.”

His resolve broke and he let out a low chuckle at that. “I’m inclined to agree with you.”  **(But Marianne knows what to do to make him drop the depressing introspection.)**  He tugged her closer, and she felt the easy warmth of bantering slide right back into a different kind of heat and oh,  _c’mon,_  this was getting ridiculous.

Trying to ease herself into a less… _stressful_ position in his arms without him noticing, Marianne flashed back to the little seed of an idea from last night. It was beginning to take root in her mind, and she gave a small, thoughtful frown. Maybe if she played her cards right… **(Do fairies actually play cards? This is what I wonder…)**

She leaned back away from him and cocked her head at him questioningly. “So you’ll be meeting with them all day?”

He gave a tired groan. “A most likely and unfortunate possibility, yes.”

Marianne nodded, letting her eyes slide to one of the windows, still closed, but she knew that a heavy, nearly full moon was in the sky, just waiting for night to come. “Well, have fun. But…whenever you get back here, even if it’s late…let’s escape for a bit.”

He quirked a brow at her. “Escape?”

“Yeah,” she said casually, already feeling her heart start to pick up a bit, and she shrugged with measured ease, trying to keep cool. If he suspected anything…  **(God, Marianne is like me when it comes to trying to be subtle. The very fact we _try_  at all gives us away.)** She continued nonchalantly, tossing her head in a carefree manner. “You know, let Stuff and Thang worry about something else than waiting on us for a change. No reading  **(royal documents, though the idea of them just casually doing some light reading is undeniably endearing to me),** no Throne Room, no staying cooped in tonight, get a chance to stretch our wings…explore…”

She wondered if she was being too obvious  **(YES)**  as he tilted his head at her, a slightly curious frown on his face. She hadn’t complained about staying in before during her week here, but oh, if the moon was going to be strong tonight… _Please say yes, please please please –_

He nodded, his eyes still curious. “Certainly,” he agreed. “Anywhere in particular you want to see?”

_Score!_  She grinned innocently at him, trying not to let her eagerness show. “Just some new sights.”  _And hopefully some old ones…_ **(I am so fucking subtle when it comes to ending scenes, God. How many of you rolled your eyes at this sentence, be honest with me.)**

* * *

It was going to be an amazing night, Marianne could already tell.

The moon had already been high in the sky when Bog had returned from the meeting, the sky the deep violet-blue of twilight. She had watched its steady climb in the sky eagerly while waiting for him, too caught up in her plan to pay attention to anything else and feeling zippy little prickles of excitement across her skin. She was ready, she was so ready for this… **(I really tried to build the feel of excitement and eagerness to this, and I feel like it worked. I can just imagine Marianne watching the moon slooooowly climb, barely able to keep still in her seat by the window, drumming her fingers and kicking her heels, twitchy as a cat…)**

After the usual grousing and biting remarks that followed most of his councils  **(Bog’s like my Dad after work. To be fair, the Elders of the Forest are big old fussy geezers with attitude problems. I haven’t introduced any of them in my fanfics yet, but they’re a bunch of grouchy old curmudgeons)** , Bog had been as ready as she was to take off into the night, and she smiled joyfully, feeling slightly wild as cool air rushed around her. They raced each other through the ever-darkening Forest, darting around trees and under brambles, careening in and out of deepening shadows. He did show her new places, her favorite being the swampy marsh off by the northern border, where fireflies had skittered across the rippling water like rockets. She had chased after them, making him laugh, and she felt ridiculously free. **(I love the image of Marianne chasing fireflies. I don’t know why, I just do.)**

She made a few lazy loops in the air, making languid circles around the trees, as he rested on a mossy branch below, before her heart seized in her chest from excitement when she saw what she had been keeping an eye out for the whole night.  _That_  was the one, she sure was sure of it! Grinning, she glanced up at the moon, feeling another jolt of satisfaction and excitement when she saw how brightly it glowed in the sky, casting a pure silvery light upon everything.  **(Marianne is so freaking _cute_  in this scene. She so desperately wants a second go at that night, baby-girl is so eager…) **

_All necessary things accounted for…for one last final touch…_

She spun in the air back to Bog, and gave a sharp whistle before calling to him. “HEY BOG!”

“WHAT?” He called back, already grinning.  **(He loves her playfulness.)**

“RACE YOU!” She flipped into a sharp summersault in mid-air and took off to her destination. She heard Bog give a curse at her early start, but he followed her, quickly catching up. She grinned fiercely. Good…now she just had to find the –

Glancing down, she felt her heart leap. A field of familiar dark purple blossoms lay beneath her, their delicate petals dancing slightly in the breeze and their perfume rich in the air. Giving a triumphant laugh, she dove down and snatched one up, the stem snapping easily. She smiled to herself, deeply satisfied.  _And now Operation: Second Chance can finally start for real…_ **(God, Marianne, could you _be_  more of a dork?) **

She gave one final burst of speed to make sure she would beat Bog – a romantic flight was one thing, losing a race was another  **(these dumb babies are so competitive, and they love it)**  – and then let herself flutter down to the tree she had been hoping to revisit all night. Bog soon followed, looking around as he landed, undoubtedly recognizing where they were. Though off in the distance his old fortress was now a crumbled ruin, everything else was as she remembered it. The moonlight was once again shining on them as they caught their breath, standing on the same branch that they had shared that brief moment before…well, she hoped he recognized it, she was going to feel pretty stupid holding the flower if he didn’t. 

She lifted the blossom to her face and inhaled, the scent heady but not overpowering, and gently traced its petals with one finger, enjoying the velvety feel of them. She could feel Bog watching her, and willed him to start the conversation. He cleared his throat, and she bit back a grin.

“Now, if you will indulge me,” he said, with a mock formality, “I have a question for you.”

She twirled the stem of the bloom between her fingers, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?”

“Yes…” He moved closer to her, and she smiled, feeling her blood thrum from how the evening had turned out, how everything had miraculously fallen into place, how her excitement pooled in her belly. “I’ve been pondering it all night, but for the life of me…I can’t figure out your ulterior motives for getting us out here.”

Marianne gave a wince. So much for subtlety. “I was that obvious?”

Bog gave a snort. “You’re an open book, Tough Girl. The only time I can’t see your emotions on your face is when you’re already screaming about them.”  **(BOG SPEAKS THE TRUTH HERE, MARIANNE. But honestly, I love that about Marianne. I love that for someone who has so many walls up for so long, her natural state is openness, wearing her heart on her sleeve, even when Roland shattered it so badly. So often we’re told to admire those who stay stoic and calm and keep it together, and I love that Marianne is expressive and fiery and doesn’t try to hide herself, even if she wishes she could. She’s fiercely herself, and her emotions won’t be denied.)**

Marianne made a face at him. “I don’t scream.” **(YES YOU DO.)**

“Yell, shout, bellow, what have you  **(Snarl, growl, roar - Marianne is so beastly, I love it/her)** …” Bog waved a hand, and then looked at her closely. “But tonight was… _is_  important for you. Coming back here…” he gestured around them, “is important to you. But I haven’t been able to guess why. Care to explain?”  **(For all that I love to joke about Bog being a dumb nerd baby and being blissfully oblivious to certain things, Bog reads Marianne really well. He knows when something is up with her, be it negative or not. He might need some clues in getting to the exact root of the issue, but the point is, Bog _knows_ Marianne.) **

Marianne’s wings gave a nervous flutter, and she looked away  **(I love using wings to express emotional states so much)**. She had sort of hoped for a wordless acceptance of her foolish, hopeful little plan, but of course Bog was too smart for that  **(Bog doesn’t let her go unchallenged, something that she appreciates. Roland might have continually picked after Marianne, but when push comes to shove he would roll belly up at her forcefulness. Bog doesn’t, and he challenges her in a respectful way)**. She licked her lips, struggling to find the words. “I…I was sort of hoping…” Not sure how to continue, she threw her hands up in a gesture of frustration. Bog’s attention quickly was captured by what was still held in her hand.

“Is that…is that the flower…?”  **(And the lightbulb blinks on. Oh, Boggy…)**

Marianne stilled as he came even closer, his eyes intent and wondering, and he reached for the bloom. She silently surrendered it to him, and he gently took it, cradling it in one of his palms with a care that she would have teased him for if it weren’t for her heart performing a series of flip-flops.  **(Bog’s huge claws gently cradling such a delicate bloom is such a lovely image…)**

Bog looked up from studying the flower at her, his eyes wide. “Why did you -?”

“I guess… “ She hesitated, then took the plunge. “I guess I wanted a second chance at it.”

His brow creased in confusion. “A second chance at what?”

“ _This.”_  She waved around her, to the mossy and secluded tree branch, the brilliant and glowing moon, to the kind of evening only the Dark Forest could provide. She felt suddenly overwhelmed by it all, and tried to keep her voice steady as she continued, which was nigh impossible what with how her heart was starting to pound. “The first night we…I mean, the first night that I was here and we…” Marianne frowned at her hesitancy, but a light of realization, of understanding, began to dawn in Bog’s eyes and she hurried on to continue. “I just thought we deserved a second chance since, y’know, Roland” – Bog bared his teeth briefly at his name, and Marianne wasn’t too happy to say it either  **(even the slightest mention of Roland seems like a waste of time to them)**  – “showed up and ruined the last one.”

Bog moved toward her, closing whatever distance between them was left, taking her chin in his free hand, his other one still holding the bloom. He tilted her face up, so that she could look at him straight on. She gazed at him and shivered, not sure whether to blame the slight breeze, the heady perfume of the flower, or his expression for it. She was intensely aware of how wonderfully rough his skin felt against hers. Without looking away, he gently placed the flower behind one of her ears, his hand running through her hair in gesture that made her knees weak at how achingly familiar it was.  _It’s like the dream all over again, only it’s so real, so real and oh maybe, maybe this time it will happen…_ **(And he doesn’t even realize he’s repeating the gesture, it’s so instinctual for him. Everything with Roland was calculated, everything with Bog is in the moment, instinctual and genuine and true.)**

His eyes, the blue of them shining in the moonlight, were gently bewildered. “A second chance at what?” he repeated, soft and unsure.  **(C’mon, Boggy…)**

Marianne stared up at him, her eyes unblinking, drinking him in as he stood somewhere between shadow and moonlight  **(I’m awfully proud of that little description)** , her heart in her throat, unable to say anything, unable to tell him what she meant, what all of this was about.

She was only able to show him.  **(Marianne is so much more for action than words. Same with Bog.)**

While she didn’t like to think about it now  **(honey, no one would)** , Marianne had fooled around a bit with Roland – nothing big, nothing but a few stolen moments in dark corners and empty hallways that her younger self had spent many an hour mooning over and now made her stomach heave  **(I think Roland tried to get away with as much as he could, maybe even pushed Marianne to do some things she wasn’t altogether comfortable with, but I think the most they got to was the odd heavy make out. He also probably was able to find some willing Fairy girls on the side in order to fulfill his _manly urges_ , the fucking asshat)**. But the point was she was no novice to this stuff.  **(This was actually big for me - Marianne as the initiator and having her have some experience is important to see. So often girls get told to let the guys lead, and here she is, choosing to do this.)**  She couldn’t be sure with Bog, but since he  _was_  older than her – though he obviously didn’t care to be reminded of that - she was relatively certain that he had more experience than her  **(Assuming is a dangerous thing to do, Marianne.).**  Which set her nerves even more on edge when she stepped into his space, already so close to him to begin with, looking up at him through her lashes.  Gently but purposefully, she ran her hands up his arms, their rough, scaly texture sending ripples of heat through her, before clasping them behind his neck. Once again wishing he wasn’t so much taller than her, she rose slightly on her toes as she pulled him down to her, her eyes sliding closed and her lips already parted.  **(I was so worried about this going too slow, or bogging things down with details. But oh, I do love this lead in…)**

Any remaining confusion he had left melted away from Bog as their mouths met in an achingly slow and sweet kiss  **(I really wanted it to be gentle and tender, to contrast to the later kiss and its rough passion)** , the mix of softness and roughness and warmth intoxicating. He immediately circled his arms around her, tugging her as close as she could get  **(Because he wants you just as much, Marianne.).** Pressed up against all his sharp edges, Marianne felt herself shiver, victory and desire both fueling her reaction. This,  _this_  was what was supposed to have happened that night, this was the kiss that had been stolen from them, the one they were meant to have… **(And Roland can’t take this victory from her, from either of them. The kiss honestly is them reclaiming something in a way. Almost reclaiming their right to _have_  such moments, to  _be_  so unabashedly romantic…)** 

Sliding her hands down his back, she gave a little hum of happiness, and Bog responded by raising a hand to her cheek, one sharp thumb reverently stroking along the graceful line of her cheekbone  **(What was pictured in Tangy’s picture. Oh, stroking along the edges of cheekbones will be the death of me.)**. In that moment, Marianne could have sworn that she could feel the glow of the moon on her skin, on his, making them both turn silver  **(I love that image/description, that the moonlight is almost a tactile thing, it’s so very strong.)**. She tilted her head, angling her mouth to deepen the kiss, and he eagerly followed. It was warmth and longing and everything that could have been that first night, and she sighed into the kiss, causing Bog to tighten his grip, his hands prickling against her, even through her clothes. She let out a soft, pleased little moan at the contact, and his answering growl, low and quiet, sent an intense shiver down her spine  **(Add Bog growling into a kiss to the list of things that will be the death of me…)**. The burning ache at her core intensified, sending a throbbing pulse through every inch of her body.  _Now, do it now, now now now._ **(Girl is READY.)**

Her heart hammering anew, she carefully brought her arms back up to loop around his neck.  **(Marianne really _is_  genuinely nervous here, I hope that came through.)** The kiss continued, soft and gentle and teasing, stoking her fire, and Bog was too lost to it to notice her hands as they slowly ran up his neck, cradling the back of his head, holding him there. And Marianne knew with an exhilarated finality that this was it, that if she ever wanted to make her move, it had to be now.  _C’mon, Tough Girl._ **(THE FIRST TIME I USED THIS AS HER RALLYING CRY TO HERSELF. I FEEL SO PROUD. This obviously has cropped up in other fanfics of mine, but I just so LOVE the idea of Marianne adopting this as her personal form of encouragement/way to gather herself. “I can do this, I can, I know I can. Bog saw it in me, and I see it in me, and I know I can do this…”)**

**(OH GOD, HERE WE GO.)**

Her stomach in knots, her heart racing, every bit of her on fire from need, she parted her mouth and, hesitancy and hunger clear in the gesture, slowly brushed her tongue against his lower lip.  _Oh god, oh **god** , the  **taste**  of him –  **(I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. I LOVE THAT THIS IS HESITANT AND SLOW BUT STILL SO PURPOSEFUL.**_ **Marianne is nervous, but she is flat out showing him what she wants - )**

Bog violently jerked away from her, his eyes huge.  **(Oh God, I wonder how many of you were screaming at Bog for this. _I’m so sorry!_ But God, I knew that this  _had_  to happen, and I loved how it turned out - the abruptness, his absolute shock…I just love it.) **

Marianne tried to control her breathing, feeling her face burn painfully even as the rest of her went horribly numb and cold, and she could only stare at him with stricken eyes, shame and disappointment and thwarted lust burning in her gut. She was overcome with a sickening wave of guilt as she saw the look of shock on his face, and oh god,  _oh god_ , it  _was_  too much, it  _was_  too soon, she had messed up, she had ruined  _everything! Oh **god** , oh Bog, I’m sorry, I am  **so** sorry. _ **(Because of course, Marianne would jump to conclusions and assume the worst. Because like Bog, the worst seems the most likely and logical possibility to her. For them, good things can’t _just_  happen =( )  **

A sound that sounded potentially like a sob escaped her  **(Aw, baby doll…)** , and she blinked rapidly as her eyes began to prickle, desperate not to make more of a fool of herself tonight than she already had. She could hardly bare to look at Bog, who was still deathly silent  **(Embarrassment and guilt are the worst immobilizers.)**.  _Say something, you moron._

She took a deep, heaving breath, and opened her mouth, whether to apologize or plead, she had no idea. “I –“

**(Meanwhile, Bog’s conversation with his inner voice:**

**Inner Voice: _“WHAT THE BLOODY HELLS ARE YOU DOING, YOU PRAT?!”_**

**Bog: “HER TONGUE TOUCHED ME! ON MY LIP! _SHE TOUCHED MY LIP WITH HER TONGUE!”_**

**IV: “What, and you didn’t _like_  that?!” **

**Bog: “No no no, I _did!_  It was - that felt bloody  _amazing_ , actually -” **

**IV: “SO WHY DID YOU PULL _AWAY_ FROM HER, YOU IDIOT?!”**

**Bog: _“I WASN’T EXPECTING THAT!”_**

**IV: “Well, I think it’s safe to say you can expect it _now._  And if you think Marianne’s tongue felt great on your lip -  _gods,_  did that feel  _sweet_ \- imagine how it would feel…” **

**Bog: “…”**

**IV: “…touching _your_  tongue.” **

**Bog: “…..”)**

Whatever words she was going to say were lost when Bog grabbed her and slammed her back against the tree trunk, pinning her arms up. Before she could demand what the hell he was doing, his mouth was on hers in a kiss that was near ferocious in its hunger, hot and hard and desperate.

**(IV: “TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, YOU GREAT GIT!”)**

Stars exploded behind Marianne’s eyes, and she was only able to take a quick, shuddering gasp for air before she was kissing him back just as fiercely, open mouthed and savage in her passion.

**(God though, in all seriousness… _I am so damn happy and proud of everything in that above scene._ I love the pacing, the timing…I didn’t go into this fanfic with any idea of just *how* the actual make-out would play out, just that I knew that I wanted Marianne to make the first move, I wanted Bog to be shocked, I wanted Marianne to fear that she went too far and messed up only to have him roughly show her that she had most empathetically did NOT mess up. I love the flow of Bog slamming her against the tree in his urgency, pinning her there. I did worry a bit about it being too rough, but God, I love the action and possessiveness and his sheer readiness _to go for it_  now that he sees she wants what he’s been so desperately and quietly desiring for so damn long. I LOVE IT.) **

**(I swear to God, the whole make-out flowed out of me. I have no other way to describe what happened. I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted, I knew how it had to go down, and each little thing felt so natural, one paragraph flowing naturally into the next. _I was so damn thrilled._ )  **

They moved desperately against each other, fumbling in their desire, too consumed by their frantic need to experience as much as they could of the other to worry about skill  **(as is the case with truly great make outs - being so swept up the passion of it all that the passion becomes a guide and the fumbling doesn’t make you falter)**. Marianne gave a delirious moan as his tongue brushed against hers, the feel of it and the slight sting of his teeth against her lips sending her senses into a freefall of ecstasy **(I love that description.).**  She quickly went to work on giving as good as she got, chasing after it with her own tongue, stroking and exploring, already addicted to the taste of him. He shuddered hard against her, and the kiss turned deep and smothering  **(God, I love it)**  and almost unbearably heated, neither of them wanting to stop to breath, to do anything that would tear them apart, anything that would cease this delicious warm, wet heaven –  **(Can you believe I was nervous about adding the word “wet” in there? The silliest things worry me, I swear…)**

Marianne strained her body to his, aching to feel every inch of him as he held her against the tree, his hands a crushing vice on her wrists, as if there was any danger of her leaving. She wanted to feel him, to feel all of him, but he was so tall and still had to hunch over her and dammit, she knew fairies were supposed to be dainty, but what was the  _point_  if she had to stand on her toes to get near to him while he was kissing her like this? After a few more heated gasps and groans and not nearly enough contact, she told any remaining sense of propriety to go screw itself and hooked a leg around his waist, a desperate sound escaping from her.  **(Once again leaving behind the idea of conforming to what her people/society deems is proper.)**

And Life decided to do her a solid as Bog quickly lifted her up to him  **(again, they’re so in synch, they know each other so well)** , one pair of claws digging into her thigh while the other clutched her back, and she was able to shamelessly wrap both legs around him and continue their kiss and oh  _hell_ , the last time she did this she was drunk on goblin ale and had been too wasted to appreciate her situation but now, with every nerve ablaze and every part of her –  _every single intimate part_  – pressed against him, scales and sharp edges and all of it biting into her tender skin…

Desperately needing to ease her ache, Marianne unthinkingly let herself grind against him, punishing and perfect, lost to her frantic and fevered thoughts as Bog gave a choked sound into her mouth.  **( “BLOODY FUCK, TOUGH GIRL.”)**  

_\- I love him I love him I love him, I love him so much, he’s amazing perfect incredible, I never want this to stop, never never never, never wanna let him go, want every bit of him to bite into me, devour me, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe -_ **(I love the stream of consciousness here, I feel it captured the rush of her thoughts very well.)**

Her lungs burning for air, Marianne dizzily let her head loll back, gasping, and Bog let his head sag, also taking deep, shaky breaths. Gulping down cool air, Marianne tilted her head further back in a groan, her senses swimming, a sea of moonlight around her  **(another description I absolutely adore)**. She shakily tried to marshal her wits, but at that moment Bog, evidently deciding he was sufficiently recovered and undoubtedly compelled by the sight of her bared throat, chose to burrow his head in the crook of her neck and lavish the slender column of it with scraping, sucking kisses.  **(I love the initiative here - it’s already obvious at this point, but Bog is far from shy when he knows that Marianne wants what he wants, but he could have paused here and backed off, and he didn’t, he wanted to keep going and he knows Marianne well enough to know that she would want that too. Also, I am the biggest fucking sucker for neck kisses. Oh my word, THEY DO THINGS TO ME.)**

Marianne inhaled in shocked pleasure, stunned at both at the initiative he had shown so far and at the frankly mind-melting sensations of his teeth and tongue on her achingly sensitive skin –  _does he know fairies’ necks are our sensitive points, did he figure out that’s why I wear high collars?_   **(I head canon that necks and ears and the base of their wings are super sensitive spots for fairies)**  - as he tasted and tested, and if the muffled moans he was giving were any indication, he obviously liked what he found. Marianne’s eyes squeezed shut and her fingers dug into his shoulders, her senses already overloading when his fangs pricked against her pulse point, and she gave an utterly embarrassing whimper, which seemed to spur Bog on, and she felt him snarl into her neck and –

She gave a yelp, her neck stinging, and Bog jerked away, horrified.

“ _Marianne!_  I’m sorry,  _I’m so sorry love_ , I didn’t mean to, it-it just came over me,  _did I hurt you - ?!_ ”

**(I AM SO PROUD OF THIS SCENE. I JUST…NEEDED TO SAY THAT. I knew from the start that Bog would be a biter, I knew that there would be a moment where his instincts would kick in and it would be feral and primal and Marianne would react with pain. I knew it, I knew it had to happen. But I feel like I established something important with this scene to - Bog can stop if Marianne shows her pain/discomfort. He’s not mindless, he’s not savage. He is still Bog, _and Marianne’s happiness and safety and consent always come first for him._ )** 

“ _Don’t you dare stop_ ,” she ground out, her voice a snarl, pulling his head and his mouth, some of her blood still on his lips, back to her neck  **(because Marianne knows what she wants/likes, and Marianne likes rough things)**. And though he hesitated at first, obviously loathe to causing her any more pain, Bog continued his attentions there, kissing and licking and soothing away any pain from his bite, and Marianne let out a breathy moan when she felt the scrape of his fangs again. He quickly understood and bit once more, not as fierce as the first one, but enough that it sent a spiral of heat through her and ripped a deep-throated growl from him.  **(I have nothing to add except re-reading this scene makes me so damn happy and it’s one of my favorite things to do. I don’t know if it makes me super fucking arrogant and egoistical to get such a thrill from reading my own writing, but it’s the truth.)**

_Oh god, this is even better than that time in the empty Throne Room_.  **(I’M GONNA GET TO WHAT WENT DOWN IN THAT EMPTY THRONE ROOM ONE DAY, BELIEVE YOU ME.)**  Panting, the bite of tree bark digging into her back and Bog’s bite on her throat  **(another one of my favorite descriptions)** , Marianne once again attempted to rally her wits, galvanizing her will to give back at least half of the pleasure he was giving her. As his mouth trailed up her throat, she hissed out a breath and leaned into him, nuzzling against his cheek before nipping at his ear. He shook and then slumped into her embrace, his breath coming out in a helpless, ragged gasp as Marianne teasingly slid her tongue along the edge his ear, before biting into it,  _hard_. The sound he made at that seemed to be torn from somewhere deep within him, and though it was the first time she had ever heard it, Marianne knew it was now going to be one of her life’s goals to have him make it as much as possible.

Feeling heat blossom in her belly all over again, she smirked and drew back, dragging the ear free of her teeth before mouthing at it one last time, her breath coming in little breathy gasps.  _A bite for a bite._   **(Because Marianne is just as wild and beastly as Bog in her own way, and that is a beautiful thing.)**  Even though she couldn’t do the same damage as Bog could, it was obvious it had just as a devastatingly serious affect on him as his bite had on her. He gazed up at her, dazed, like she had just dealt him a blow, crippling him in the best way possible.  **(God, if someone where to ever draw this, Bog dazed with lust and looking up at Marianne like the fierce goddess she is, _my heart would stop._ )** Her heart still pounding, Marianne looked at him with hooded eyes and bared her teeth in a growl  **(Such a beastly beauty, bless her. She knows what gets him going, and she’s gonna give it to him.)**. He suddenly snarled and grabbed her, pulling her to him once more, and she laughed into his mouth, triumphant and happy, so incredibly happy.  **(Because the happiness and laughter during make outs is so important to me. _They love this._  This makes them so happy, it brings them so much joy! And for Marianne, what a triumph, that she has this, has him, after Roland ruined so much for her, after she thought she would never have something like this in her life again…) **

The laughter turned into a greedy moan as tongues entwined around each other once more, sinking into shared heat, and it was a damn good thing he was holding her because at this point her knees would be as weak as water. Yet she still felt so powerful, so hungry for more, for anything he could give.  **(The play of weakness and power, being at once vulnerable and in charge - Marianne needs to know she can have both, that she can trust Bog to give her that.)** This was so much more than any embrace that they had shared up until now – this was desperation in every inch of their bodies  **(love that line)** , desire and craving and need, and the groan Bog gave as she arched against him sounded half-starved  **(Dammit, Bog, stop making me all fluttery-hearted)** , and she was stunned and so outrageously turned on by how unabashed he was being, how forceful – she would have thought being dominated like this would have made her livid, but when Bog did it –  **(AGAIN, SUPER IMPORTANT. Marianne knows that she normally likes being in charge, but she feels safe and flat out enjoys Bog being dominant. Because she knows in her heart of hearts that she could express her desire to be the forceful one and he would immediately let her. She trusts him to listen to her, to care for her. _She trusts him_.) **

She tore her mouth away from the kiss, her lips swollen and burning, and oh, oh god, she wanted as much of him as she could get -  _his jaw line, I love his jaw line_ **(WE ALL LOVE THAT JAWLINE, MARIANNE, IT’S A THING OF BEAUTY)** _–_ and Marianne’s thoughts were rapidly becoming more and more incoherent as she bit and sucked and kissed her urgent way along said jaw, Bog’s shuddering gasps making her feel molten with need, like she was smoldering from sheer desire, and as they dove back into another hungry kiss she dared to imagine that together they could coalesce from their shared passion, incinerate the whole Forest…  **(I am so damn proud of that description, that by their passion alone the whole Forest would go up in smoke. Love it.)**

Gone were her nerves, the lonely shadows in her heart, and she wondered through a haze of desire how Bog had suddenly switched from being perfectly content with simple touches and embraces to this kind of heat, this frantic clash of passion.  **(She starts to wonder…)**

She was distracted from her pondering as Bog clutched at her hip, rocking into her, and her breath whooshed out of her in a high gasp, and now their kiss was something else entirely, both of them letting their bodies move against each other in a rhythm that was both intoxicatingly new and completely natural.  **(I was so nervous to have that bit?! I was all, _“Oh goodness, that’s not too much, right?”_  I’m glad I went with my gut and kept it. Let these nerds have their lusty, semi-dry humping. It will stop being semi when  _Vesture_  rolls around…)** They parted for air, their breath mixing, and Marianne looked into Bog’s eyes, and if her eyes were smoldering from passion than his were glazed from need  **(I love the image of that)** , none of the normal shyness or hesitancy in their depths, and suddenly –

_Oh. Oh my **GOD**._

**(THE OTHER SHOE DROPS. BAM!)**

She realized.

She realized in a piercing moment of white-hot clarity that he must have been tormented by the same feelings she had felt all that past week, yearning and hungering for her but unable to say it either.  **(BECAUSE BOTH OF YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL IDIOTS).**  And the thought of him desiring her with the same fierceness, the same burning, pushed her over the edge, and she attacked his mouth, nearly mauling it with lust. He didn’t shrink away, wasn’t thrown off by her need  **(He never will be, she will never be too much for him to handle, he will never be like Roland and want her to deny herself)**  but pushed right back,  **(and he will meet her as an equal, respect her and love her as one)**  gripping the back of her neck painfully, claws digging in, biting into the kiss, and oh  _god_ , she wasn’t going to last for much longer now, it was too good, too hot, their combined desires a force of nature now that they had both succumbed to it.

Each of them gave one last desperate gesture – his claws tearing at her hair, her teeth biting into his lip – before they parted, their bodies wracked with both pleasure and exhaustion. Bog gave a small, nearly silent groan and let his head sink against her neck, inhaling deeply, whether it was to catch his breath or breathe her in, she couldn’t tell. Marianne, too winded to make any noise, let her head rest against the tree, her eyes once more finding the moon, the silent witness to their…moment.

_You just made out with Bog and it was the hottest thing you have ever experienced and you’re calling it a **moment?!**_

**(I MADE MYSELF LAUGH WITH THIS, I CAN’T LIE.)**

Marianne gave a tiny wince at that inner voice - which sounded suspiciously a lot like Dawn  **(Marianne’s inner voice sounds like Dawn (except when it’s saying poisonous stuff to her) and Bog’s inner voice sounds like his father’s)**  - but she wasn’t too bothered. In all honesty, she was too busy feeling satisfaction and pleasure burrow deep into her bones, her whole body in such a state of languid bliss she nearly purred  **(I love the descriptions here, it really brings out the sheer blissed-out state Marianne’s in)**. Glancing down at Bog, she felt a fierce rush of affection and love for him, and she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his brow. It seemed to wake him from whatever post-make out catatonia  **(this is a real thing, I know, I have much medical knowledge and what-not)**  he was slipping into, and he leaned back, drawing a breath.

“Tha’…” He quickly cleared his throat, and continued on a little less thickly. “That was…um…”  **(THICKENING ACCENT FOR THE WIN!)**

“Uh-huh,” Marianne lazily and whole-heartedly agreed, and huh, her voice sounded pretty darn throaty as well.

“I mean,” Bog struggled to continue, “that…we…”

“Yeah…” She nodded, her voice a sated drawl.

**(THIS WHOLE EXCHANGE MAKES ME CLUTCH MY HEAD AND SHAKE IT BACK AND FORTH. YOU BABIES. YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER NERDS. OH MY GOD, HOW I LOVE YOU.)**

After a few more moments of fighting to find words that encompassed what had just occurred between them, Bog seemed to silently admit surrender and laid his head back down against Marianne’s shoulder, exhaling hard  **(Oh Boggy, no one could blame you.)**. Marianne felt a smile tease her lips, making them ache even more. The responsibility to talk coherently obviously fell on her. She cleared her throat and Bog looked up at her, some nervousness creeping into his face.  **(Because now the heat of the moment has passed, and the nervousness is back…)**

_“Sooo…_ ” Marianne began, her voice still a tell tale sign to how utterly  _amazing_  she felt just then. “I think it’s safe to say that  _that’s_ been waiting for a while now.”  Bog flushed at that, and Marianne gave slight chuckle – only Bog could bring her to the state she was in and then go back to blushing at the slightest insinuation.  **(BECAUSE HE’S THE BEST NERD KING EVER, MARIANNE, YOU GOT YOURSELF A GOOD ONE.)**

“I…I think you’re not too far off in that regard,” Bog muttered, focusing his eyes on her neck, where his bite was already beginning to purple against her skin.  **(YOU SWEET BABY, OH MY WORD.)**

Knowing that it made her the biggest hypocrite in the world but still needing to know, Marianne ducked her head and bit her lip, before softly asking, “Then…why didn’t you…?”  **(Because she’s getting nervous too, and as fabulous as the make out was, there _are_  still questions and communicating that need to happen…)**

He gave a wince, and looked away from her, guilt and shame on his face. “I didn’t want…even with you staying here for so long…” he gave a frustrated sigh at himself, before continuing on in a subdued tone, “I didn’t want to force you into anything, especially if you weren’t ready. Didn’t want to…to be too –“ 

“Much?” Marianne finished, her heart giving a little pained thump when he nodded somewhat miserably.

“I was worried I would scare you off.” The bluntness of his words was at odds with the soft sadness of his voice  **(Because once again, Bog seems so convinced that he isn’t worthy of happiness, isn’t worthy of having something so good in his life without a price. He took a risk once with the Love Potion, and while this is a different risk entirely, our boy has been scarred deep from his experience. Of _course_  he thinks he would scare her off, the Goblin Girl screamed and ran from him…)**, and Marianne felt her breath catch before she let out a groan, angered beyond belief.

“ _We. Are. Such. Freaking. Idiots_ ,” she bit out, glowering.  **(YES. YOU. REALLY. ARE.)**

Bog instinctively hunched up, his eyes going nervous and fearful and confused. “We…we are -?”

“We  _seriously_  need to get better at this communicating thing!” Marianne crossed her arms, oblivious to Bog desperately trying to figure out what he had missed. “We could have had whole days of – of –“ she gestured to them wildly, and Bog’s face scrunched in confusion  **(BOG, YOU’RE SO CUTE)** as she continued her rant, “ -  _this_! Almost a week of it! God, maybe we  _are_ perfect for each other, seeing as we both can’t get our heads out of the mud and  _actually talk_  –“ She finally noticed Bog’s bewildered expression  **(“This seems important to you, but I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about now, Tough Girl…”)**  and relented, her shoulders slumping. “I felt the same way. This whole time, even after promising you that just hanging out with you was enough…I was going nuts with trying to ignore how much…” She wanted to continue, but found it difficult between once again trying to force the words out and the incredulous happiness on Bog’s face.

“You felt… _this whole time_?”  **( _“OH GODS OH MY GODS WHAT WHAT WHAT?!”)_**

Marianne gave a little shrug and unfolded her arms, once again winding them over his shoulders. “It was…kind of difficult not to  **(because you’re so fucking attractive it makes me all kinds of horny)** …” she murmured, and his expression made her heart clench.  _Oh god, he honestly did have no idea what he did to her…_ **(He really, really doesn’t. And Marianne has no idea what she does to him.)**

She let the silence after her statement hang for a bit, giving him time to chew on that fact, before she continued.  “There was also the fact that…” she squirmed, but plunged on. “I wasn’t sure how I would measure up to…others.”  **(Because she really doesn’t know much about his past aside from the Goblin Girl, and I think she would still have some lingering insecurities when it comes to being compared to other girls and found wanting, with Roland’s cheating not helping out in anyway.)**  

Bog cocked a brow at her, nonplussed. “Others?”  **(Poor babe is so clueless, genuinely has no idea.)**

She grimaced a bit and blew out a gust of air, wishing she didn’t have to spell it out. “ _Other girls_ ,” she said pointedly, and Bog’s face immediately reddened.

“Ahhh, well, uh…” He licked his lips nervously, avoiding her eyes. “There’s…there’s no need to worry about…about that.” Marianne tilted her head, torn between suspicion and confusion, and now it was Bog’s turn to grimace. “I was quite young when I fell in – when I banned Love Potions. And as the whole experience made me swear off love, I…” he fumbled, and his flush became even more pronounced. “I never really…had the, uh, opportunities to…”  **(YOU SWEET FUMBLY THING.)**

Marianne intervened by interrupting him, arching her eyebrows in surprise. “So…you never did this anything like this with anyone else…?”

“No one,” he answered quickly, before looking down, the tips of his ears still burning. **(Of course he would feel inadequate over this…)**

Marianne stared at him, slowly going over this new information. He had never…and what they did was his first…

She slowly shook her head, grinning slightly. “Huh…got to tell you, I  _seriously_  wouldn’t have guessed that after…” She let the sentence trail off, and Bog looked up at her, the honest astonishment in those beautiful eyes sending a sweet pain piercing through her heart.  **(YUP, MY HEADCANON IS THAT BOGGY IS A GODDAMN NATURAL WHEN IT COMES TO THIS STUFF. But in all seriousness, he would pay so much attention to Marianne, to seeing what she likes and what she responds to. And he uses it and it makes him such a great lover.**

**Also, it was really important for me to have Bog be the less experienced one of the two. Not only does it make sense considering his character, but I love the subversion of the typical idea of the older man guiding the younger woman, on this idea that a man has to lead a woman in exploring and awakening her sexuality. Marianne is plenty sexual to begin with, and she and Bog are both equals. But on that note, she does have more experience them him, and that’s not a negative thing. Neither of their experiences - or lack of them - is a negative thing here, and I think that’s important to see. Bog and Marianne are equals, and no matter what’s in their past or how many times they subvert expectations and norms, they’re finding what works for them, and that’s beautiful.)**

“You wouldn’t? So…I-I wasn’t -?”

Now it was Marianne’s turn to look at him incredulously. “Uh, was I the only one present during all of that? We’re lucky you’re holding me; my knees would have given out. My wings probably wouldn’t have saved me either, now that I think of it.”

At her comment, Bog seemed to realize that he was still holding her, and quickly set her down, his cheeks still warm but a faint grin of pride on his mouth.  **(YOU BE PROUD BABY, YOU LOVED HER UP GOOD.)** Marianne grinned too, happy that she put it there, and snuggled into his chest, marveling over how the moonlight framed him.  **(I love that image.)**

Bog’s eyes wandered over her, drinking her in, but when his eyes reached the bruise on her throat, he frowned, reaching out and tracing the air over it. “There still remains the fact that as a Goblin and a Fairy, there will be…differences, regarding what…what we need to, uh –“

“Satisfy our crazy hormones?” Marianne offered, and snickered as Bog gave her a slightly dirty look.  **(“Quit being crude, Tough Girl.”)**

“ _Become satisfied_ , yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the other still on her neck, barely probing the wound. Marianne was still sensitive enough that she swore she could feel the heat of his hand as it hovered over the bite, and resisted the temptation to lean into his palm. His eyes grew darker, withdrawn.  **(Oh, Bog, sweetheart…)**  “You shouldn’t have to suffer through fangs bloodying you up whenever I get careless –“

Marianne held a finger to his mouth, cutting him off. “Even if it’s the romantic norm to take some chunks out of your partner here, or that stupid misconception that fairies need their wings stroked for some thrills, or whatever,  _this_  is why we need to talk. So we can know what we want, what we need.”  **(SO IMPORTANT. COMMUNICATION IS KEY.)**  She frowned at Bog. “I’m not about to fly off in disgust at something that’s natural for you  **(I WANT TO SING THIS SENTENCE FROM THE ROOFTOPS, IT MEANS THAT MUCH TO ME)**  – I want to know everything about you,  _and_  the history and culture of the Dark Forest, and that includes this kind of thing. All I ask is that you give me the same respect.”  **(AND OH, HE WILL HE WILL. SHE IS FLAT OUT ASKING HIM FOR RESPECT, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE NEVER DONE WITH ROLAND. BUT SHE’S KNOWS HER VOICE AND SHE KNOWS THAT BOG WILL LISTEN. AND HE ALREADY RESPECTS HER. AND I AM JUST SO HAPPY.)** She softened and ran her thumb along the edge of his mouth, the rough slant of it catching on her skin. “Besides, I like the teeth.”  ** _(Marianne, oh my word.)_**

Bog shook his head, still worried. “There’s a profound distinction between accepting that we’re different species with different backgrounds, and not worrying enough when you could get seriously hurt –“ Marianne’s last words finally seemed to reach him, and he blinked at her. “You…you  _do_?”  ** _( “…What?!”)_**

She gave a soft giggle, nuzzling his nose. “Yeah.”

Bog didn’t seem to know how to handle that news.  **(“…Holy buggering hells, this beautiful mad wench is gonna goddamn kill me.”)**

Smiling, Marianne looked away from him and delicately stroked a hand over her bite. “No one is going to have any doubts about who I want when I go back looking like this.” It would give all the gossipers at court a good, sharp shock, which Marianne, having endured all sorts of muttering, was thoroughly looking forward to.  **(Already setting up for _Soon-To-Be-Mother-In-Law Knows Best_. But yes, I think Marianne  _would_  look forward to flaunting her bites. Girl doesn’t give a damn. He’s hers and she’s his and she’s got the mark to prove it, so mutter about that, you gossip mongers.) **A new thought suddenly came to her as one of her fingers caught on the edge of a shallow puncture wound, and she hissed. “Though I will admit, it’s not going to be fun explaining this to Dad when I head back…” she muttered, her mood going a bit sour. He would probably make a big fuss over the “ _vicious Bog King hurting her”_ , or something else equally idiotic.  **(Oh Dagda…once again, I swear I don’t hate you…)**

Bog blinked like he was coming out of a dream and gave a distressed frown. “So you will be heading back?”

Marianne gave a groan. “Believe me, I’m not happy either. But Dad made me promise I would come back after a week here, no excuses, and tonight is the fifth night.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Now do you see why I was so mad about us not saying anything earlier?”

Bog reflected on that, on all the days they could have had exploring each other, losing themselves to passion, and his expression became quietly enraged. “ _We are such bloody fools,”_  he growled, and Marianne gave a tired nod.  **(YES YOU ARE. NOW YOU KNOW THE BENEFITS OF COMMUNICATION, DON’T YOU, YOU LUSTY FIENDS?!)**

“Yup…” She stroked his sharp cheek, a half-hearted attempt to placate him.  **(They’re so openly affectionate with each other now after the make out. I didn’t plan it that way, but man, it makes me so happy.)**  “My Dad is already mad that I’m here to begin with. We would have to think of a really good reason for me to stay longer.”

There was a pause, and then Bog spoke, his rough voice hesitant “…You could get caught in another storm?”  **(Oh, Boggy, _honey._ Honey,  _NO._ )**

Marianne gave a huge snort. “That excuse will only fly once, smart guy.”  Besides, no make out, no matter how heart-meltingly amazing it was, was worth her being grounded from flying. Marianne was proud that she could recognize that even in her current lust-addled state.  **(I’m proud of you too, dear, Lord knows my head would be spinning after that make-out.)**

Bog gave a grunt of annoyance, and she resumed stroking his cheek, trying to soothe both of them, and she forced her mind to think about something else, wandering back to their earlier words -  _“…the history and culture of the Dark Forest… different species with different backgrounds…”_

And that was when Marianne got her second, absolutely amazing-brilliant-incredible idea.

**(God, the diplomacy idea. I can’t believe the life it has taken on, it’s such a key part to the timeline and to both their characters now. THIS FANFIC ENDED UP BEING SO DAMN IMPORTANT GUYS, I HAD NO IDEA.)**  

Biting back a fierce grin, Marianne let herself relax, and drummed her fingers nonchalantly against Bog’s shoulder, her nails clicking against the tough armor. “Whether we like it or not, I  _do_ have to go back and do the princess gig,” she mused, keeping her voice as cool and detached as she could. Bog gave a growl, already grumpy, and she fought against the laugh building in her. “At least it will give me the chance to finally talk to Dad about my new idea.”

“Yeah, good for the both of you,” Bog groused.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, even before I met you,” she informed him, her tone lofty. “It’s pretty brilliant.”

**(Marianne, you are an unrepentant tease.)**

“I’m sure it is.” His voice was flat, and she couldn’t stop a smile at that. 

**(We all smile at Bog when he’s being salty as fuck, Marianne, you’re not alone.)**

“Yeah, a diplomatic program between the Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest has to be one of my best ideas yet.”

“Yes, yes, it sounds fascinating, but how are we –“ Bog finally registered what she said. “…Diplomacy? Between the two kingdoms?”

**(To think that the Diplomacy Program was a spur-of-the-moment decision for me. At least, it feels like that now, looking back on this. It just seemed perfect for Marianne and for Bog to have that, to work together on that. And now look at it, look at the life it’s taken on in the timeline…**

**…I’m shedding a tear, I’m getting so nostalgic.)**

Marianne hummed in agreement, looking over his head, desperately trying not to laugh at his thunderstruck expression. “Yeah, diplomacy. I’ve always wanted to bridge the gap between the two kingdoms, have more freedom between the borders. I think some cultural education for both fairies and goblins needs to be implemented.” She looked back at him and gave him a smirk, and continued on in a decidedly sultry tone. “The sooner…” she let one of her hands toy with his ear, “…the better.”  **(I’m sorry, I think toying with ears is super sexy. Neck nibbles and ear nibbles, slay me now…)**

Bog’s tried to hide his gulp,  **(God, that makes me laugh every single time)**  but Marianne saw it anyways and a hot, sweet flash of victory and hunger went through her.

Eyes still on him, she continued on in a murmur, earnest and heated. “Really, both kingdoms would become stronger – we could work on losing old prejudices, create new trading opportunities, learn from each other…and as the Future Queen of the Fairy Kingdom, it would be my first big project, let everyone know what I want to do when I rule. I would still live at the palace, but…” Her hands rubbed at his shoulders, and she could feel that they were both getting heated again, both getting deeply excited,  **(OF COURSE THIS WOULD TURN YOU ON, YOU NERDS)**  “…I would need to establish ties to the Dark Forest. Lots of trips here, lots of time with you, learning all that I can…” Marianne stood on her toes again and whispered into his ear, the heat of her voice palpable. “I’m thinking that those learning sessions would have to be as intensive as possible.” **(MARIANNE, YOU ARE SIMULTANEOUSLY THE WORST AND THE BEST. AND BY WORST, I MEAN THE BEST.**

**LOOK AT THIS LUSTY INTELLIGENT QUEEN-TO-BE, LAYING OUT HER PLANS LIKE A PRO, GETTING WITH HER MAN AT THE SAME TIME. _BOW DOWN TO HER._ ) **

Leaning back, she looked up into Bog’s face and felt her heart simultaneously melt and somersault from glee. He was looking at her as if she was the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen, his eyes full of shock and dark delight. When he finally spoke, it was in an awed whisper.  **(We are all Bog and Bog is all of us. We are united in our awe of Marianne and that is a great and glorious thing.)**

“ _You wicked girl_ ,” he said, and then grinned wildly, and Marianne found herself lifted up once more in an embrace, crushed against him, and she grinned at the incredulous elation in his voice. “You wicked, mad, absolutely  _brilliant_  girl!”  **(He is so unabashedly delighted by her cunning, by her intelligence. She is so damn good at this, and he knows it and he _loves_  it. He loves how smart and powerful she is, and that is so important to me.) **

She laughed. “You sure know how to compliment a lady. “ Leaning back, she drank in his sheer exhilaration and gave him a dangerous smirk. “It benefits both of our kingdoms, and we get to see each other as much as possible. Dad won’t know what hit him.”

Bog gazed up at her, looking entirely smitten. “You’re going to be an absolutely vicious queen, love.”  **(So so so smitten. _“Look at this girl, look at this mad brilliant girl with her cunning and her strategy and her fierceness and intelligence. She’s just the BEST.” )_**

“Stop that sweet talk, Bog, you’re making me blush.”  **(I just love this whole exchange so much, guys.)**

He gave a laugh, and the sound of it made Marianne feel a mix of warm, mushy tenderness and hot, piercing need  **(I would have loved to hear a laugh from Bog that wasn’t his cackle from the soundtrack and not the faint exhale of laughter we got in the movie. A full on laugh that’s just unrepentantly happy and free. That’s that laugh here)**. Winding her arms around his neck, she went in for a kiss, and Bog happily obliged. Their teeth clicked against each other as they smiled into the kiss  **(I love that little detail)** , and Marianne knew he felt the same delight and mischief and eagerness coursing through him as she did. She thought about the future, about further fits from her father, about bringing some of the goblins over to her kingdom, setting out to do what she had always wanted, shattering old musty traditions, beginning new adventures…

And Bog would be right next to her the whole time.  **(I MIGHT CRY. _“You’ll be stronger with a King by your side.”_  YEAH, SHE WILL, BUT IT WILL BE BECAUSE HE LOVES AND RESPECTS HER, DAGDA.)** 

The triumphant, joyful laugh she gave was captured by his mouth and soon melted into a moan as their kiss deepened, before Bog gently broke away and spoke into her ear, which gave a pleasurable little twitch at the feel of his mouth against it.  **(Marianne’s ears actually do move around in the movie, I’ve noticed that!)**

“In the interest of learning…” he murmured, and Marianne hummed at how incredibly attractive he sounded, using that husky growl  **( _Unf_ …sometimes I imagine what Bog sounds like during certain bits of this fanfic, and it’s an incredibly dangerous thing for me to do…)**. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh, really?” she murmured, her eyes sliding closed as she felt his claws drag lightly down her sides.

“Mmm-hmm…are fairies ears as sensitive as they say?”  **(OH MY GOD, _BOG._ )** 

Marianne’s eyes popped open, and her breath caught in her throat as she felt Bog’s teeth bite lightly into her ear, his tongue soon following afterwards.  _ **(HOLY HELL.)**_  The sound she gave was wrenched from her before she could stop herself, and seemed to echo embarrassingly in the warm, moonlit evening for all the Forest to hear  **(Yeah, they probably _did_  hear it. Stuff grinned and rolled her eyes, and Thang thought that was a very interesting bird call…)**. Bog gave a dark chuckle, and she quickly focused on payback.

“Yeah…” she admitted in a heated purr. “But you tell me - do all goblins have  _such_  super sensitive spines?” She punctuated her question with a sucking kiss to his neck as she dragged her fingers nails roughly down his back, scratching little trails between his wings.  **(THESE TWO NERDS ARE MERCILESS WITH EACH OTHER AND ARE SO STUPIDLY COMPETITIVE IN ALL REGARDS, AND I LOVE IT.)**

And oh yeah, Bog  _liked_  that, he liked that  _a lot_.  ** _(_ “HoooooOOOOOLY BLOODY HELLS, _TOUGH GIRL!”_**

**_…WHAT A NEEERRRRRRRRD BABY.)_ **

* * *

The mushroom beneath the tree looked up, his eyes squinting in the deluge of moonlight.  **(I love the little mushrooms, I don’t write about them as much as I should.)**  The King’s Mother had told him that he was to give a full report on the happenings between her son and his Fairy Paramour **(Dammit, Griselda, let them have some privacy!)**. But…the mushroom sighed, and averted his eyes. The wrath of the King was already something to be feared. Having something like this reach his mother’s prying ears would undoubtedly send him into a fury that the wary little fungus wasn’t keen to witness.  **(Smart little fungus is a smart little fungus.)**

Besides…on a night like this, with the moon glowing in the sky like a silent sentinel, the mushroom felt the couple deserved their privacy.  **(I feel like this was the perfect note to end it on, having the moon watching over them all, the glowing silver sentinel to lovers on nights like this…it’s so perfect for Bog and Marianne, and it’s so perfect for this fanfic.)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s the commentary! Goodness, but that was a wild ride! It reminded me of how much I flat-out love this fanfic, how honestly proud of it I am. I said it before, I’ll say it again - it’s so bizarre to think that this fanfic wasn’t planned, when it’s truly such a turning point of Bog and Marianne, and contains the very first steps to the diplomacy program…
> 
> What a lovely, happy accident of a fanfic. My goodness, but I love it.


End file.
